


They Shook Hands - Year 6

by Dethryl



Series: They Shook Hands [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/M, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Slytherin Harry, Slytherin Pride, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Up Slytherin!, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 193,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dethryl/pseuds/Dethryl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who will be next to perish? Should he support the Ministry? Does Dumbledore have a plan? These questions and more haunt Harry as he and his new Order train for war and vengeance in-between three weddings and a funeral. Hogwarts is stunned when Snape gets the Defence job. Will he too be struck down? Harry has been warned about the returning Potions Master, but how can he resist hearing tales about Slughorn's favorite student, Lily Evans?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Prior Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> Year 6 will be somewhat different from other books in the They Shook Hands series.
> 
>  _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ was a stellar canon book in many ways. It gave us some great characters in the form of Professor Horace E.F. Slughorn, Romilda “Romy” Vane, “Lav-Lav” Brown, and “Won-Won” Weasley. It had superb mysteries in the form of the Prince’s Potions book and Draco’s secret mission. It had fast action from the poisoning of Ron to the Inferi attack to the raid on the school. It told us a lot about what had gone before, why people were the way they were, and why all of that was important. It was a good book in that we didn’t know this information yet, so it expanded our understanding of the ‘verse.
> 
> The trouble comes when one attempts to adapt it.
> 
> I’ve written Harry as a better Potions student who gets the required marks to enroll in Snape’s N.E.W.T.-level class. He would have no need to take an old book. I also don’t much feel like rehashing the Prince’s book plot with a different character. It is very easy to divest myself of this plot point.
> 
> All of the plot with the memories is very static. I can write Harry talking with Dumbledore about what he learns, but there is absolutely no point to pasting in several thousand words of canon text. Even the reactions to the memories will largely be the same.
> 
> Without the Potions book and without the memories, what’s left for a plot? Unfortunately, not much. I’ve got a number of subplots running, but none of them are significant enough to raise to the level of a major plot and still have it be interesting. Am I really going to write “Harry Potter and the Boring Year at Wizard School”? I don’t want to. Do I come up with some entirely new plot? The big focus in TSH has been adapting the original story. What is an author to do?
> 
> I’ve decided on writing POVs other than Harry. This will allow me to avoid having him hear things second-hand or turning into a spy. I hope to keep things interesting until we get to Year 7, which is when stuff starts to go down. JKR didn’t often deviate from Harry’s POV. There will be no rhyme or reason to how or when I do.
> 
> I will show you lots of characterization, and some people may have complaints about a lack of certain elements. Too bad. I’m adapting a story and attempting to do it realistically, staying true to the characters, not spinning entirely new yarns. Harry’s not going to suddenly gain the ability to shoot lasers from his fingertips. He’s not going to be able to command the League of Dragons because he’s the first wizard since Merlin to speak their language. He most certainly will not be asking the leader of the goblin nation to just call him Harry. I have read so many ridiculous things in fics. When you notice me making commentary through TSH, it’s likely in response to some trope or cliche I find absurd. Y6 is about more characters, more history.
> 
> This fic wouldn’t be possible without [The Plaid Slytherin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin). Go read her stuff. Now. Review it. She deserves it. Thank you, PS, from the bottom of my inkwell.

The evening was cool and clear. The stars, what few could be seen in the heart of London, began to twinkle as the sun slipped below the horizon. The sky was streaked with scarlet and purple. It had been a good day. The last rays of the setting sun filled the sitting room at the House of Black, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, with a golden glow. The fire burned cheerfully, and few shadows lingered here, banished by the many lamps and candles.

Narcissa Malfoy sat on a couch talking with her sister Andromeda Tonks. The two women did not share many features. Andromeda was brunette, Narcissa blonde. Andromeda was broader in the face and had laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. Narcissa didn’t have a single wrinkle, and she would have concealed it with magic if she did. Andromeda dressed sensibly, as befit a Healer of the prestigious St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Narcissa had set aside her fine gowns when the war broke out. She still looked classy and elegant, but her more functional robes would let her flee or fight or flee as the occasion demanded..

Their respective husbands occupied chairs nearby. Ted Tonks sat with his legs crossed at the knee. He seemed nervous. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable and had twice refused a cushion. Lucius Malfoy was the picture of relaxation. He sipped on a glass of port and drank in the splendour of his wife of nearly thirty years. These two men were also opposites in many respects. Pureblood and Muggleborn; old money and Ministry worker; blond and brown-haired. The only thing they seemingly shared was a love of Black daughters.

Sirius Black, cousin to the sisters and the master of the house, stood near the fireplace, a drink held loosely in his hand. He had emerged from prison with a ratty, unkempt mop of tangles on his head and had cut it all off. Two years of growing had his black hair almost down to his chin. He could have grown it with magic; he chose not to. He was clean-shaven, and the subtle fragrance he wore had hints of spice.

Tonks sat on a couch with Remus Lupin, holding his hand. The Metamorphmagus’ hair was a muted (for her) royal blue. Remus seemed on edge, which made no sense considering it was a new moon, not full. He stroked his moustache with one hand. It wasn’t quite long enough for him to twirl, and he just didn’t fit the part of a sinister villain.

The family got together only infrequently. It was only in the past year that they’d come together at all. The sisters had made peace, and now that he was head of the family, Sirius had restored Andromeda to her place in the family, from which she’d once been disowned. They were all trying to adjust to a new paradigm.

Lucius and Narcissa’s oldest child, Elan, was presently a patient at St. Mungo’s, under the care of his aunt. At Easter he’d been abducted by Voldemort, the most evil wizard in a generation, and held for two months. Elan had been rescued by his brother Draco, Sirius’ godson Harry, and several of their friends in a tale so astounding that it stretched credulity.

“He’s recovering nicely,” Andromeda was saying. “I think he’d appreciate some visitors.”

“At last,” Narcissa said irately. “I don’t understand how they can keep even family away.”

“It’s only until the Healers can finish their evaluations. It wouldn’t do to have parental emotion and anxiety trigger magic that could interfere with the diagnosis. It’s in the best interest of the patient.”

“It doesn’t mean I have to like it. I want to see my son.”

“You will, Cissa. Soon. I’m taking good care of him.”

Harry and his friends had also rescued Elan’s cousin, Percy Weasley. Percy was also undergoing treatment at St. Mungo’s, for the same abuses. He had been taken at the same time as Elan, and Percy’s younger sister Ginny had been one of those who had gone to the Ministry on the rescue mission.

Lucius cleared his throat. “Nymphadora, I am aware that Aurors do not have the best-paid job in the Ministry. Perhaps I could interest you in a potential for some additional income.”

Tonks raised an eyebrow and ignored the use of her given name. “Are you joking?”

Lucius shook his head. “I never joke about money.”

“It’s not illegal, is it?” She still sounded skeptical.

“Certainly not. Elan has been under round-the-clock guard, as has Percy Weasley and Miss Greengrass. Security is strong, but there’s nothing like a guard at the door. Would you like to join the rotation? I can pay you quite handsomely.”

“I did see a memo come through about how volunteers were needed to guard the Director of International Magical Cooperation. It makes sense that you’d want the same for Elan.”

“Percy’s guard is official. Elan’s is decidedly less so. What say you?”

She looked for a long moment at Remus. “I certainly won’t turn down a job. I want my standard rate.”

“Done.” Lucius didn’t even try to negotiate. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Speaking of jobs,” Remus interjected, “has anyone heard anything about who Dumbledore intends to teach Defence this year?”

“No,” Sirius said sourly. “I don’t know if that means he can’t find anyone or if he’s just not saying.”

“He has not informed the governors or the Ministry,” Lucius said.

“I’m of half a mind to volunteer,” Sirius said, half to himself.

“Harry would like that,” Lucius noted. “I have also been considering applying for the post.”

“I have trouble seeing you as a teacher.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Maybe both,” Sirius said frankly.

“Things do need a bit of shaking up at Hogwarts. Umbridge knew that.”

“She did get rid of Binns and old Trelawney.”

“She also removed Hagrid from his teaching position,” Lucius said approvingly.

“With Umbridge gone, will Dumbledore bring him back? Harry says the students don’t think much of his classes.”

“He is a poor teacher,” Lucius noted with a mild sneer. “He found the responsibilities of a professor too onerous. It was too much effort to actually read and grade student papers. It’s time taken away from his drinking.”

“You can lay off of Hagrid,” Remus said pointedly. “I worked with him when I taught Defence. He’s a good man.”

“He may be well-intentioned, but he does drink too much. In his more honest moments, he’ll even admit it. It is a mistake to have him in a position of responsibility and authority.”

“He was a better teacher than Trelawney,” Sirius argued. “At least he knew his subject. Trelawney was just an old fraud. You can’t teach someone how to be a Seer. Either one has the Inner Eye or doesn’t.”

“Yes, if she worked with students on a case-by-case basis, that would probably be better. I’ll suggest it to Dumbledore when I speak with him next. I am glad that Divination is no longer a part of the curriculum. It leaves more time for more important subjects.”

“Yes, Defence,” Sirius mused.

“When the boys get out of school, we’ll have to make sure they keep up with their training. The future is dark and full of terrors. I know they will want to be ready.”

“They may not want to. They took some losses at the Ministry.”

“That's no reason to roll over and die. We fight all the harder to secure the safety of those who remain."

Remus said, “Did you see the article in the Prophet this morning?”

“About the Germans pledging unconditional support? Yeah, it’s fantastic news,” Tonks said.

“Have you ever worked with German Aurors before? What do you think of them?”

“A couple of times. They’re very good at what they do. Not much of a sense of humour, but few Aurors have one anyway. I’m a fabulously beautiful exception to that rule.”

“The Spanish and Italians are busy with their own internal problems,” Lucius continued. “As you are surely aware, the Spanish Minister was recently forced from office, and we still don't know who his replacement will be. The Italians have their hands full dealing with an upstart Dark wizard who is trying to join Voldemort. Fudge has discounted their aid entirely, since they have asked for our help. The French are still debating what to do. They’ll still be talking when Voldemort trips the protective enchantments around Paris. I do not hold out hope that Europe will come to our aid.”

“What about the Americans?” Ted said. ”Surely the special relationship counts for something.”

“So far, they have not committed beyond food and medical supplies. We need wands, and they send watermelons.”

“The Russians?”

“Still feeling the effects of the Bolshevik revolution, I’m afraid. They can barely take care of their own. They have no culture left to speak of, and their school only had enough students to reopen this year.”

“What about non-humans?” Ted said. “Surely we can find allies amongst them.”

“I’ve had no luck with the werewolves,” Remus reported. “Fenrir Greyback is appealing to their baser instincts. With how badly werewolves are treated by wizarding society, they see this as a chance to improve their standing. Voldemort might be a maniac, but he’s their maniac.”

“More the fools they,” Lucius interjected.

“Hagrid’s mission to the giants was unproductive as well,” Sirius noted. “Can we possibly get the goblins to stand up and fight?”

“Would that even be a good thing?” Tonks said. ”They might come in handy for this struggle, but do wizards really want to encourage goblins to take up arms again? It might cause more problems than it solves.”

“What about the vampires?” Ted continued. “They are traditionally Dark creatures, which may cause many of our comrades a bit of concern, but they haven’t been in conflict with wizards for several generations. They’re stronger than any other being of comparable size, and they’re faster too. That could come in quite handy.”

“They are of limited usefulness,” Lucius said. “Even Voldemort has little use for them, based on the minimal role they have traditionally played in his schemes. They can only operate at night and cannot enter a home unless invited. They also cannot use magic, and they are constantly distracted by fresh blood.”

“And by shiny objects,” Remus added. “I’ve never met a vampire who could maintain focus for longer than an hour. It’s like trying to hold a werewolf’s attention near the full moon. They’re very primal beings.”

“Who else is there?” Sirius said.

Lucius sipped his port and considered the matter. “The centaurs will take no part, but they will at least defend their territory. Hogwarts will not have to fear invasion through the forest. The dwarfs have no warriors. The merpeople would be of no help unless we throw the Death Eaters into the lake.”

“That’s funny,” Remus noted. “Lucius, you’re developing a sense of humour.”

“Veela?” Sirius suggested. “Remember how distracting they were at the World Cup a couple of years ago? If we could get a handful of Veela to join us, they’d be very useful.”

“They can throw fireballs as well,” Lucius said. “I have no contact with Veela. From all I understand, they are simple creatures who indulge overly in the physical pleasures. With their power over men, they could rule the world if they put some effort into it. They don’t bother. They may not have any interest in the war.”

“I wonder if Voldemort would be able to resist Veela temptation.”

“Probably. He eschewed those sorts of indulgences on his quest for power.”

“But he’s not in his own body anymore. Peter didn’t have as many notches on his belt as Remus does-”

“Sirius!” Remus looked around. “Don’t believe him. Peter had at least twice as many.”

“I guess that’s true. My point is that Peter wasn’t exactly a virgin. If Voldemort hasn’t lopped off those bits, we might be able to use that against him.”

“I’ll see if I can make contact,” Lucius promised.

“I don’t think any other magical race is sufficiently organized to even ask for help,” Remus mused. “Hags are pretty much hermits. You’d have better luck enlisting the wind as to keep the attention of any faeries.”

“You’ve already mentioned the Veela from the World Cup,” Tonks said. “What about the Irish national mascots?”

“Leprechauns?” Sirius said in a startled voice.

“Their gold may disappear, but we could use a bit of luck on our side.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lucius said.

“I think we’re overlooking the obvious. What about the Muggles?” Ted said.

“As allies? That is a non-starter,” Lucius answered. “Fudge has informed the Prime Minister of as much as he needs to know about the situation, but even that strikes me as perilous.”

“If we had a few squads of Royal Marines, we could take out all the Death Eaters with ease.”

“Not only is there the Statute of Secrecy to consider, but to involve Muggles would not be wise. We would lose the purebloods if we tried. I’m sure the Muggles are very good at dealing death,” Lucius said disdainfully, “but to use them would create more problems. Voldemort is a wizarding problem, and we will deal with him in a wizarding way.”

The discussion went around in circles after that. Nobody could come up with any more suggestions.

Remus and Tonks took a few private moments to converse. When they had reached agreement, he kissed her solidly on the lips.

“Yes,” he said.

“What’s this?” Lucius said.

Tonks smiled widely. “We’ve been trying to figure out how to break the news gently, but-” she held up her left hand. The diamond sparkled brilliantly in the firelight. “Remus asked me to marry him!"

"That's wonderful news," Mrs. Malfoy cried with delight. "Oh, Nymphadora!"

Tonks grimaced. "When I file to change my name, I'm changing it to Tonks Lupin, I swear!"

"You can be whoever you want to be, Dora," Remus said with adoration in his eyes. “I love you, not your name.”

"You sappy sod," she retorted fondly, giving him a playful push. "You know how to talk to a woman."

"I know how to talk to one woman."

"At a time? Seriously, I know you told them all they were the only one who had ever meant anything to you."

"That's your cousin much more than me," Remus said. "Don't listen to all of his stories."

Tonks grinned. "Even if only one percent is true, you're still quite a rogue. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"As you wish."

"Isn't he just the most wonderful man?" Tonks asked the others.

“Have you set a date yet?” Narcissa said.

“Not yet. I sort of wanted to elope, but I couldn’t talk him into it.”

"Congratulations, old wolf," Sirius said. "You're both extremely unlucky. I fully expect to be the best man, and you're going to have to let me give a speech."

A slightly worried look crossed Remus’ face. "Oh no. I hadn't thought of that."

Sirius grinned widely. "Have I got some stories to tell. I might even finally tell everyone about the Noodle Incident."

"We agreed never to speak of that again. How dare you even mention it?"

"There's nobody left alive who even cares," Sirius scoffed.

"I care. You know McGonagall would care. Dumbledore might."

"I can't believe you're still this excited about it all these years later."

"I can't believe you're not. We're changing the subject. Dora, the elopement idea you had is sounding better and better."

"See, my love? So many advantages."

"Oh, but you can't deprive us of all the pomp and splendour," Mrs. Malfoy exclaimed. "We'll begin planning immediately, won't we, Andy? I'll write to the society pages. They'll want some pictures. Does anyone have a camera?"

"I don't want to be in the paper," Remus said.

"I do," Tonks disagreed. "I'm an Auror. Whenever I catch a dirtbag, they always run a picture of him or her. That's important, I suppose, but I've never had my picture in the paper."

"Yes, we'll want a squad of Aurors in full dress robes to line the hall," Mrs. Malfoy said to no one.

"High society is going to tear me apart," Remus protested.

Sirius responded. "A daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is getting married. They'd do it no matter who you were. They'll have enough fun with the fact that she's not a pureblood Black."

"Tonks Black Lupin. I like it."

Ted hadn’t spoken yet. He’d always been reserved toward Remus, jumping to conclusions about the amorous activities the couple got up to. “Good on you for making an honest woman out of her. I always knew I’d have to give her away someday. I guess it’s just coming a bit sooner than I expected.”

“Daddy, you’ve been after me for years to find a good man. Don’t try to pretend you’re not thrilled about this news.”

Ted grinned. “I am. I really am. But you’re my only child, and now that the day is here, it’s hard to accept that you’re all grown up. It’s something every father goes through.”

There was nothing Tonks could really say in reply to that.

“Kreacher!” Sirius called.

The old elf popped up immediately. “Yes, Master. Kreacher is answering like the good elf he is.”

“We’re going to celebrate tonight. Prepare a feast and fetch some champagne.”

Kreacher’s eyes lit up. “Does Master have any specific requirements?”

“Not tonight. Please indulge yourself.”

The elf bowed deeply, nearly touching his snout to the carpet. He popped out again.

Sirius seemed thoughtful. “It’s hard to believe that he’s the same elf who cursed me out when I first got back. Oh, and we’ll have to throw a proper party once Harry and Draco get out of school.”

Remus looked at his intended bride. "Did you ever think you'd be having an engagement party surrounded by Slytherins?"

"In my worst nightmares," Tonks joked back. "Mum raised me to fear being trapped into a loveless marriage by agreements between families. Now here we are, forming our own family. It's like the Un-Black family."

"It's all Harry's doing," Sirius said. "He's healed the breach. I never would have thought that possible."

"He's got many gifts," Remus said. “We are all lucky to know him.”

Kreacher returned with the champagne. Everyone raised a flute.

“To the happy couple,” Sirius said. “May your life together be long and filled with love.”

“Hear, hear!”

Thereafter they avoided the topic of Voldemort. One did not darken a sunny day of joy with the clouds of war. Everyone was well aware of the threat they all faced. They chose to ignore it now, at least for a few hours.

* * *

Severus Snape Apparated to Azkaban with a sense of trepidation. Though he knew with a certainty that he had done nothing to anger the evil wizard who resided there, there was always the remote chance that his cover had been blown, that Voldemort had finally figured out that he was not the loyal Death Eater he pretended to be.

The prison had undergone some architectural modifications since the Dark Lord's conquest one year ago. The administrative building had been gutted, reams of parchment burned. He had crafted himself a throne room, complete with an ornate chair on a raised dais, where his followers could worship at his feet.

The cells still held prisoners, but these were innocents, abducted to strike terror into the hearts of society. The dementors still roamed the halls, feeding off the fear of the damned.

Severus entered the Dark Lord's audience chamber and raised his guard yet further. Bellatrix Lestrange was also in attendance, and the crazed witch could be up to almost anything. She was insanely jealous of the trust the Dark Lord placed in Severus, and she tried constantly to undermine him. She seemed to think that he was somehow a threat to her own position, head of the inner circle.

The Dark Lord was busy just at the moment, so he stayed silent and back a few steps. A kneeling Death Eater was delivering a report.

"The blood traitors have been taken to Saint Mungo's, where they are under Auror guard. They have not yet woken up."

"You will continue to monitor the situation and report when things change."

"May I not slay them for you, Master?"

"Must I repeat myself? _Crucio._ "

Severus watched dispassionately as the anonymous Death Eater writhed on the floor. This one was new. He hadn't learned not to question. One could seek clarity, but one could never suggest that the Dark Lord had chosen an imprudent or unwise course of action.

"I will obey, Master," the masked Death Eater gasped, a lock of blond hair falling out of the hood as the head was bent to the floor.

"Begone." The glowing red eyes honed in on Severus.

"My Lord," Severus murmured as he knelt in supposed homage.

"Welcome, Severus, and rise. You are as punctual as ever. Perhaps you can help me determine just how it is that Bellatrix has failed me so spectacularly."

Bellatrix shuddered, and Severus was hard pressed to conceal a smirk. He knew all about the failure to obtain the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries.

"I am at your service, my Lord."

"It seems that Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Avery, Macnair, Dolohov, and Rookwood were incapable of even the most basic instructions. They were to infiltrate the Department of Mysteries, take the prophecy, and capture Harry Potter when he came to rescue the Malfoy and Weasley brats. I am beside myself. Not only did Potter manage to destroy the prophecy and rescue his friends, but Avery, Macnair, Dolohov, and Rookwood managed to get themselves captured. I am surrounded by incompetents, Severus, save for you. You have never failed me."

"You honour me, Lord."

"I require Polyjuice. Bellatrix will need it for her next assignment. Many years ago I placed in her care a certain object of great worth to me as a sign of trust. It has become plain to me that she is no longer worthy to be its keeper. She will retrieve it as soon as the Polyjuice is ready. The face does not matter. The goblins will not be fooled in any case. You will accompany her and bring the object back to me."

"The latest batch of Polyjuice is nearly ready, my Lord. I require only two more days, but it will be the last I can provide you until more boomslang skin can be obtained. As it is, this batch is quite small."

"Yes, yes," Voldemort said with a careless wave of his hand. "Dumbledore and Fudge have done well to restrict the supply of crucial components. It is frustrating, but soon we will be beyond the need for disguise. I will kill Harry Potter soon. When I duelled the boy, our wands connected somehow. I have never heard of such a thing in all my studies. What do we know of the boy's wand?"

"Nothing, my Lord," Severus replied. "He has never said what its components are, nor will he be free with such information."

"Ollivander would know, and he would also be able to tell me more of the strange connection. Bellatrix, after your errand at Gringotts, you will invite Mister Ollivander to call on me. Please make sure he understands that I am quite insistent. I trust that you can handle a simple matter such as this?"

Bellatrix ground her teeth. "Yes, my Lord. It shall be done."

"Dismissed."

Severus smirked at her as she left him alone with the Dark Lord. He composed his thoughts immediately and attended Voldemort with a blank face.

"Fools, Severus. I am surrounded by fools and blunderers. Only you have never failed me. What have you to report from Dumbledore's little sewing circle?"

"Even though he has his son back, Lucius lobbies harder than ever for the Ministry war effort. He makes a persuasive case that your methods are too radical, too extreme. Your attack on the Mudblood orphanage turned many against you, and he is exploiting it for all he can."

"Lucius Malfoy, champion of Mudbloods," Voldemort said with revulsion. "It sickens me."

"And me, my Lord."

"Continue."

"They continue to make overtures to inferior magical races. The centaurs are still staying out of human affairs. They are trying to find some rebel giants. The goblins will go where the profit is. The merpeople have signed on, so avoid the lake at all costs. He still hasn't heard back from the envoy he sent to the dwarfs."

"Filth," the Dark Lord spat. "Abominations."

"Their efforts to penetrate the secret of your fortress continue with no success."

"The trap which you are to lead them to should they eventually crack the secret is nearly complete. I have another layer of spellforms to put down."

"I look forward to watching your enemies wither and die, my Lord."

"What else from the Order?"

"It is not about the Order, but by your command I have learned more about the prophecy. Though I have been unable to learn more of the words, I have determined who it was that uttered it."

"Yes?" Voldemort's red eyes gleamed brighter.

"Sibyll Trelawney, once Professor of Divination at Hogwarts. She was sacked by Umbridge when the subject was discontinued, but so far as I can determine, she never left the castle. She maintains her residence. Dumbledore refuses to evict her, and when pressed he will say only that it is not wise to send a Seer out into a dangerous world. All of the evidence suggests that she is a fraud, but Dumbledore's caution implies otherwise."

"Why have you not told me this before? Surely you have recognized her from that night."

"I apologize, my Lord. I never saw the face of the Seer, and the only voice I heard was that of prophecy. Trelawney was always a fraud, a charlatan. Nobody took her seriously."

"It is true," the Dark Lord mused. "Even when I was attached to Quirrell and encountered her on a weekly basis, I had no inkling that she had genuine talent. How can I blame you for something even I failed to see? Lord Voldemort is not unreasonable. You have done well, Severus. Now here is what you will do."


	2. Slytherin House, Assemble!

Harry Potter had never been so glad for his summer holiday. After the stress and pressure of his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was a relief to finally have nothing to do and no schedule to keep. He was so worn out and exhausted that he'd slept for nearly two full days once he'd finally returned home.

He'd been so busy that he'd barely had time to eat. If it hadn't been insane amounts of homework, he had been stuck for hours in Diggory's boring prefect meetings. If not prefect meetings, then he was leading the duelling club and running drills. If not the duelling club, then he was learning how to protect his mind from intrusion with Professor Snape. If not Occlumency lessons, then he was training the backup Seeker for the Slytherin House Quidditch team. If not flying Laine Slater ragged, he was in a random broom closet with her for a snog.

His breath still caught in his chest when he thought about Laine. There was an empty place in his heart where his feelings for her had once resided. He grieved for Laine, murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries. He had led a small group of his friends into danger, and it was only through extremely good luck that the rest of them hadn't been killed as well. If it hadn't been for his godfather, Sirius Black, coming to his rescue, Harry was sure he would now be dead.

Sirius had brought his fellow Marauder, Remus Lupin, his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, as well as Harry's best mate's father, Lucius Malfoy. The four grown-ups had fought off the Death Eaters with a skill and power that Harry envied. He was determined that when the next battle was fought, he would not need to be saved.

Harry had already begun laying the groundwork necessary to building up his abilities. Each of his friends at school had been advised to look for an owl with instructions for a meeting. He wanted them to be prepared as well.

Draco Malfoy had been with Harry in the Department of Mysteries. They had saved his older brother, Elan, now recovering in St. Mungo's. Draco had never wavered in his support for Harry. His own ego was too big to ever let anyone think he wasn't a true friend, and while Draco could sometimes be a bit of a ponce, he had also been there for Harry when nobody was looking.

Theodore Nott, Theo to his friends, had come home with Harry after the last year at Hogwarts. He'd had nowhere else to go. The Cruciatus Curse had broken the bond between father and son, and Theo had latched on to the best friend he had in the world. 

It still gave Harry chills that Theo had been driven to such desperation as to poison his own father. Theo had spoken hardly at all during their fifth year, but he'd finally started to come out of his shock. They'd made a promise to fight until Voldemort was dead. 

Harry sometimes felt a bit guilty that he did not consider Theo his best mate in return. He'd simply known Draco longer. They'd all been through most of the same adventures together, but Draco was the boy Harry had shaken hands with on Harry's first day back in the wizarding world.

None of that meant that he was any less willing to offer Theo a place to go. Sirius had understood immediately, citing his own refuge with Harry's paternal grandparents at age sixteen. 

Harry knew that the summer would be filled with war preparations, but he hoped that there would be opportunities for the three Slytherins to relax together. They'd been pretty close during their second and third years, and he wanted that feeling back.

As much as he enjoyed the male camaraderie, he had to admit that he liked it when the girls were around too. He had come to admire the fairer sex and appreciate them in new ways. He knew that they too wished to be safe from the maniac Dark Lord. He had failed to protect Laine. He couldn't bear to lose any of the others.

It had barely been three weeks since that awful night at the Ministry. He still had nightmares every night. He’d seen Laine go flying through the veil a dozen times at least. Sometimes it was different. Sometimes it was Draco who went through the veil. Sometimes it was all of his friends. Sometimes it was Harry himself. One awful time it was Sirius, and Harry woke up already charging to Sirius' room and clinging to his godfather tightly as he bawled his soul out.

He had tried to draw on his Occlumency meditations to bring some order to his mind, but all he could think about was her. He spent hours staring at the painting she'd made him last Christmas, of Stonehenge. There were a few good pictures of them out at Quidditch matches and such, and he tried to cleave to the happy memories. 

It had been three weeks, and Harry hadn't heard about any sort of funeral or memorial service. Even if Laine's parents didn't contact him, he expected her brother Lucas at least to let him know the details.

If nobody was talking to Harry, he wagered he knew someone who might know.

 

Dear Ginny,

How are you? I'm doing okay, I guess. I'm still busted up about Laine, but I'm trying to channel all my feelings productively. I've been practicing my duelling every day. Sooner or later, I'll face Death Eaters and Voldemort again. Then I'll let it all out. There won't be enough pieces of them left to bury. Speaking of burial, have you heard anything about when Laine's funeral will be? I'd really like to go. I want to pay my last respects. Even if her body isn't there, the stone will be a good memorial. You'll be there, right?

How’s Percy doing? Draco tells me that Elan is responding well to treatment. Hopefully they’ll be able to come home soon.

How’s everything otherwise?

Cheers,

Harry

 

About the only thing Harry could get excited about was the first day of July and the full moon. He looked forward to taking his animal form and losing himself in the simpler mind of the mongoose. Sirius had hidden his sanity from the dementors by using his dog form. Harry hoped to be able to hide from his sorrow in the same way. He would have already tried the tactic, but he never seemed to have a moment to himself. Draco and Theo had appointed themselves his keepers and wouldn’t let him spend any time alone. If he tried to lock himself in his room, they simply unlocked it. Neither Theo nor Draco knew about his Animagus abilities, and Harry hadn't found a good way to tell them. Maybe the full moon would be the excuse. He would have to explain his absence. He wasn't about to start sneaking around like a criminal in his own house.

As he had done when pondering telling Mr. Malfoy about his secret, Harry went to see Sirius.

“Full moon is coming up tonight,” he said.

Sirius nodded. “So it is.”

“What are we going to do about Theo and Draco? They don’t know about me.”

“I’ll just have to kick you out with them.” Sirius grinned, showing Harry he didn’t mean it.

“No way!” Harry never ever wanted to hear Sirius suggest kicking him out. “I am not about to start missing out on the moon parties. It was bad enough having to miss the ones when I was in school. Do you know how much I’ve been looking forward to this?”

“You think we should tell them?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know. I want to, but I understand why we shouldn’t advertise. What do you think?”

Sirius scratched his jaw with one finger. “Well, Draco does have to more or less be Lord of Malfoy Manor since Narcissa is at Elan’s bedside around the clock. I could send Theo over there for the night, but they’d certainly ask why you were allowed to stay. Can we tell them that we just need some time together?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think they’d believe it. They know you and Remus spend the full moon together.”

“Well, this is a pickle, isn’t it?”

They both bent their brains to it in silence for a few long minutes. Harry looked helplessly at Sirius.

“I have no idea.”

“Me either,” Sirius admitted.

“I don’t want to be forced to tell them.”

“So don’t be. Make it your choice. Decide to tell them for your own reasons. First of all, were you going to tell them eventually?”

“Yeah.”

“When?” Sirius asked pointedly.

“When it became necessary.”

Sirius paused for a moment. “Do you trust them?”

“Yes. I just didn’t see why they had to know. It’s a big deal, it’s illegal, and it’s not something we should be spreading around to just anybody.”

“They’re not just anybodies anymore. They’re your closest friends. They already know about the basilisk, right? That’s illegal; that’s a big deal.”

“That’s true. That might actually be a bigger deal.”

“So we need to talk,” Harry said to Draco and Theo when they were by themselves for lunch at Malfoy Manor. “It’s time for me to tell you both one of my secrets.”

“Oh?”

Harry didn’t bother to give a long explanation. He took a page out of Professor McGonagall’s book and simply transformed.

“Wicked!” “Stellar!” “Incredible!”

Harry changed back into a boy.

“How long have you been able to do that?” Draco demanded.

“Since fourth year.”

“And you haven’t told us until now?”

“I could never seem to find the right moment.”

“Why now?” Theo said.

“Every full moon, Sirius and I run in the night with Remus when he transforms into a werewolf. There’s a full moon tomorrow night, and I couldn’t think of a good enough story that you would believe.”

“At least he’s honest,” Draco noted to Theo.

“You two will have to spend the night at Malfoy Manor,” Harry informed them.

“What about my dad?”

“There’s a secure room in the basement where he’s safe. We lock him in at night and let him out in the morning.”

Draco was incredulous. “He lets you lock him in?”

Harry grinned sheepishly. “We sort of tricked him the first time.”

“Do you think I could learn how?” Theo said.

Remus went directly to bed the morning after the full moon. Sirius took only coffee and wandered out of the kitchen. Harry let Mr. Malfoy out of the secure room in the kitchen and sat down for a bite to eat. He was exhausted and firmly resolved that he would take a nice long nap as soon as he could summon the energy to haul himself upstairs. He had just finished his eggs when his eagle owl Regal arrived with a letter. The bird had not returned until now from his mission to the Burrow. He slowly meandered towards his room, reading the letter as he went.

 

Dear Harry,

I haven’t heard anything about a funeral either. Lucas won’t return any of my owls. It’s been three weeks now. We probably missed it. I suppose the family wanted to keep it private. I guess I can understand that. I just wish I’d had the chance to say goodbye to her. It’s really strange to think that we won’t see her in September. I have no idea how things are going to be in the girls’ dorm. Laine was the undisputed queen. Sarrah and Shawna would barely even dress themselves without getting her okay. Michelle’s been on the outs since the Yule Ball, and they not-so-affectionately call me “The Gryffindor”. Will one of us rise to fill her place, or will the dynamic shift radically? I really don’t have any interest in petty power plays. There’s too much else going on that’s much more important.

Will the Duelling Club be continuing? You did a really great job as Captain. I learned a lot. Maybe there could be two groups next year. One group could be younger or less-skilled students. The other could be older kids. You could even delegate. Some of the prefects could handle the younger group, leaving you free to focus on advanced magic.

Percy is recovering. I haven’t been able to see him that much. Mum and Dad have gone a lot though. I can’t wait until he gets released.

Things are going okay otherwise. The twins are still working on their product line. They hope to be able to make enough in the next year to be able to rent out a shop instead of just selling through Zonko’s and post order. Draco’s investment really gave them a boost.

All my best,

Ginny

 

Harry was crushed at the thought that he hadn’t been able to attend Laine’s funeral. He took the letter and went to find Sirius. His godfather was in the drawing room, reading some post of his own.

“Hey, Sirius. Got a minute?”

Sirius put his papers to the side. “Always.”

"I just got a letter from Ginny. We’ve been talking about Laine’s funeral, and she wasn’t told about it either. I know her mother didn't like me. Do you think that might be why?"

"I'm sure it is. If she didn't approve of you, I'd expect her to say Laine was washing her hair when you firecalled or intercept your love letters. She might not have wanted you there."

"So what do I do?" Harry asked helplessly.

"Respect her wishes."

Harry felt like he wanted to tear his hair out. "This is really messing me up. I don't even know where her memorial is going to be. How can I go put flowers?"

"I'm sorry, Harry. You'll just have to mourn from afar. Perhaps her brother will tell you."

Harry hadn't seen anything of Lucas since the night at the Ministry. He'd presumably gone home with his parents when they came to hear the awful news about their daughter.

"Maybe." The idea of not being able to visit a grave really bothered him. Suddenly he realized that he didn't know the location of another grave, a very important grave. "Where are my parents buried?"

Sirius studied him for a moment and nodded. “I didn't want to say anything before you were ready. They're buried in Godric's Hollow. There's a nice little cemetery with a fence. I stopped there when I was on the run from the old prison. I laid some flowers. I talked to them a little. I swore to them that I was going to make it right. I was going to catch Peter and expose him for the traitor he was."

"And you did."

"And I did. I was able to give you the home you deserve, and a small slice of what should have been. Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony should have been regular visitors, not your surrogate parents."

"You do just fine as a dad, Sirius." Harry was thankful every day that Sirius was his godfather and had taken custody of him. Sirius had given him freedom from those despised Muggles, was there to talk to about grown-up stuff like shaving and talking to girls, and loved to laugh. He had lots of interesting stories about girls, Marauder adventures, and growing up in a pureblood family. The past two years had been the best of Harry's life, all thanks to Sirius. "I love you."

Sirius grinned at him. "You too, kiddo. Do you want to go see them?"

Harry did, but he wasn’t sure when. He wanted it to be special. "Maybe on my birthday. When were theirs?"

"James' was the twenty-seventh of March. Lily's was the thirtieth of January."

"So much for that,” Harry said ruefully. “Halloween is during the school year too. I guess my birthday it is."

"You don't have to go on a special day,” Sirius advised. “Any day is special enough that you can go see them."

"That's true. Maybe the day after then. I should bring flowers."

"Kreacher will take care of it. Real flowers will last longer than conjured ones."

"On the subject," Harry said, suddenly remembering a question he'd meant to ask, "what happened to their wands?"

"I'm not properly sure. Some wizards pass their wands on to favored students, some wands lose power when their owner passes, and others are buried with the owner. I could look into it if you'd like."

"A boy at school, Neville Longbottom, he carries his dad's wand."

"Frank."

"That’s right. You know them." Harry did not speak of them in the past tense. Neville’s parents were still alive.

"I do. Frank and his wife Alice were in the Order in the last war. They were Aurors, the only husband and wife team in the history of the Corps. I can't imagine being around somebody constantly day and night without wanting to go out of my skull. They made it work though. They were good, some of the best. They worked closely with Moody. He's the one who brought them into the Order. It's such a shame about what happened to them."

Harry remembered that Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, and his brother, as well as Barty Crouch, Jr. had been caught while torturing the Longbottoms, earning an instant life sentence in Azkaban. She was also the one who had killed Laine.

"One more thing Bella-bitch is going to pay for."

Harry’s resolve to make sure Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters received justice had already driven him to practice his Defence in every spare moment. It would be fair to say he was mildly obsessed. His arsenal of spells was vast, and he wanted to make it bigger still. He wanted to be able to cast faster, to say nothing of learning how to cast nonverbally like he’d seen Professor Snape, Mr. Malfoy, and Sirius do.

Harry was joined in his daily practice by Draco and Theo who had just arrived back from Malfoy Manor. They warmed up with some simple calisthenics before starting in on some magic drills. They worked on accuracy, precision, and speed. They took a break for some water and moved from the duelling room to the weight room.

“So what did you two get up to last night?” Harry said now that he wasn’t speaking Latin.

Draco tapped his weights to set the density. “We went to Saint Mungo’s to visit Elan.”

“Stupid staff wouldn’t let me in at first because I’m not family,” Theo griped.

“How is he?”

Draco grinned with relief. “He’s on the mend.”

“Did they say when he’ll be able to come home?”

“Soon. They’re still trying to break the Memory Charm. Near as they can figure, it was cast by Voldemort himself. Breaking it without breaking him might be impossible.”

“What does he remember?” Harry said.

“Of his time in captivity? Nothing. He’s missing everything since Easter.”

“Well, at least he doesn’t remember being tortured. Maybe they shouldn’t break it.”

“There is that,” Draco agreed. “We also tried to get in to see Daphne since we were already there, but as none of us were family, they were adamant.”

“I wonder how she’s doing.” Harry had done his best to protect her in the Department of Mysteries, but Dolohov’s curse had sliced through his shield like a hot knife through butter. He tried to tell himself that there was nothing else he could have done, but a small part of him persisted in feeling guilty.

“Her little sister Astoria was there,” Draco noted. “She says Daphne isn’t responding as well as the Healers would like.”

“Will she be able to come back to school?”

“Most likely. I hope the teachers give her a bye on the holiday assignments though.”

With a loud clang, Theo dropped his weights.

“Smooth moves, mate,” Harry said dryly.

“This is hard!” Theo said, puffing for breath. He could only lift half the weight that Draco and Harry were lifting. He was new to what he had previously scorned as a “Muggle activity”.

“You’ll get stronger the more you do this,” Harry said. “It’ll help you prepare your body for an Animagus transformation.”

“How long does that take?”

“To get stronger?” Harry considered. “At least a month.”

“A month!”

“That’s if you lift every day.”

Theo asked a bit despairingly, “Isn’t there a potion or something I could take?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “To build muscle mass? Yes, but you have to keep taking it.”

“Why don’t I do that? What’s it called?”

“Elan says that those potions can have very bad side effects,” Draco put in. “You know me, Theo. When have I ever been one to do things the hard way?”

“Never.”

“Exactly. So why do you think I’ve been lifting weights for the past few years?”

“I hadn’t, honestly.” Theo struggled to get the dumbbell up one more time. He failed, and it fell to the floor with a crash. “I had better things to do than wonder about your quirks.”

“It’s because doing it this way will give permanent results. When magic wears off, you’re left in the same state as before.”

“Merlin, I’m tired. My arms feel like noodles.”

“Get used to it,” Draco said without sympathy.

“Is this really going to help us fight the Death Eaters?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said. “Suppose you lose your wand and have to wrest a Death Eater’s wand from him. Wouldn’t it be nice to be strong?”

“Well, yes.”

“If you get blasted over a cliff or something, wouldn’t it be nice to be able to pull yourself back up?”

Theo shrugged. “I suppose it beats the alternative.”

“Exactly. So, we lift. We do everything we can to make ready.”

“What else are we going to do? Yes, it’s good to practice spellcasting and dodging and all, but you guys still got your arses handed to you by the Death Eaters. How are we going to train up to their level?”

“We’ll work harder. We’ve got some great resources right under this roof. Sirius and Mister Malfoy certainly know how to fight them. They’ll train us.”

“What about the others?”

“We’ll have to find a way to get them involved. I don’t want to wait until school is back in session.”

"So who do we invite?" Draco said speculatively.

"Let’s make a list," Theo suggested.

"Millie?" Draco asked.

Millie was often near enough to a boy, though not so much lately. She'd cleaned up nicely for the Yule Ball in fourth year and had snagged the attentions of Viktor Krum. Though their relationship was conducted through letters, she appeared to be content with that, making no moves to date any boy at Hogwarts. It was an old-fashioned courtship, one that made the other girls swoon. She was as tough as they came and had also gone with Harry and Draco to the Department of Mysteries. He knew she would want to train up a bit.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"Daphne?"

Daphne had also gone with them. When she wasn't cracking wise, she was quite good with her wand. She would want to get better, though. Her stake was now personal as well. One of the Death Eaters had unmasked himself and claimed her as his daughter. Far from being a happy reunion, Dolohov had cursed her so badly that she was also in St. Mungo's.

"Yes, she's in, when she's out."

Draco scratched his chin. "Tracy?"

Tracy was the first girl Harry had ever gotten to know and, though she'd had a crush on him that he didn't return, she'd gotten over it and during fifth year she'd been a vocal supporter of Harry's leadership in the duelling club. She was book-smart, and her knowledge of spells would surely come in handy.

"Yes."

"Pansy?"

“No,” Theo said.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Draco shot back.

Pansy was one of the most complicated girls Harry knew. For years she'd been saying that she didn't think of him romantically. She had offered advice and gossip about any girl he might be interested in. She'd defended him like a really good friend would, yet she'd snogged his brains out on her birthday. That might have been all well and good if he hadn't been with Laine at the time. Yet it had been a kissing party. They were playing a kissing game. Harry had enjoyed snogging Pansy; that was the truth. It was that part that confused him, and now Laine was gone. A part of the equation was missing before it could even be solved.

She was not that great of a witch, in terms of bangs and smells magic. She wasn't overly talented with a wand, and Astronomy was her best subject, followed by Potions (though only because Professor Snape wouldn’t let her fail). Pansy was useful in her own way. She was very well-connected, and Harry knew he would be glad of her talents off the battlefield.

"Of course."

"Goyle?"

Goyle’s father had once been a Death Eater. He had made the smart choice to reject his old master. He was now in hiding with his family, under Ministry protection.

"Yes. I don’t know if we’ll be able to get him to come over the summer, but once we’re back to school, he’ll join us."

"Crabbe?"

Crabbe's father had tried to kill Harry. He'd been captured in the act, and he was currently in Ministry custody. Crabbe had sworn he wanted no part of Voldemort's plan.

"Where's he gone?” Theo said. “Into hiding with his mum?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, undisclosed relatives."

Theo grunted. "Sounds like a Secret to me."

"Yes, it does." Draco turned to Harry. "Zabini?"

The black-skinned Blaise Zabini had been in Slytherin with them for a couple of months in first year. After Professor Quirrell had let the troll in, Zabini’s mother had pulled the boy from the school, claiming that it was too dangerous. He’d done some time at Beauxbatons Academy and had returned to Hogwarts at the start of fifth year. Though he’d done nothing suspicious, Harry maintained a vigilant watch on him nonetheless.

"No way,” Harry said firmly. “I don't know him, and I don't trust him. Maybe this year he'll actually warm up a bit, but until then, we keep him at arm's length."

Draco nodded. "The seventh years will be far too worried about the NEWTs, and I don't blame them. We can try to interest them, but they're going to want to focus on high-level stuff. What about one form down?"

"Ginny, definitely. I really don't know the other girls well enough to say. Arcen's a lock. Lucas will want to avenge his sister. What about Goodwinter? They're a powerful family, right?"

"Yes. We should evaluate him when we're back at school. How big do you want to go?"

"At first, not very. We'll still have the duelling club next year. Dumbledore shouldn't have any objection to keeping the club going. We'll have to find a new faculty sponsor. I was thinking of asking Flitwick."

"Or Snape," Theo said.

Draco grinned. "Yeah, Snape is good at everything."

"No, I mean it. Snape really knows his stuff when it comes to Defence. We should ask him."

"I wonder who the new Defence teacher will be," Harry said.

"Maybe Dumbledore will finally take the subject seriously and teach us himself."

Theo’s suggestion had much merit. Harry agreed. "He was amazing at the Ministry. I can see why they call him the greatest wizard of the age."

"Maybe Snape will finally get the job." Theo seemed on a Snape motif.

"We should be so lucky."

Draco smirked. "Maybe my father will volunteer."

"Yeah,” Theo said with a snort. “That'll go over real well with the parents. The Ministry would be deluged with Howlers denouncing the Death Eater."

"He's not anymore, and there's no proof he ever was," Draco said hotly.

Theo snorted again. "Who needs proof when one has an accusation and a loud voice?"

Draco sighed. "So true."

Harry had an idea. "Maybe we could get Rita Skeeter to write some positive coverage to help make the case."

Theo shrugged. "Rita can spin the facts like no other, but I'm afraid even she can’t work miracles."

"So we might actually need the duelling club next year if we get another dunderhead. Umbridge wasn't the best witch, but at least she gave us the resources to train up. If we have to do the same to make up for another Lockhart, then so be it."

"So this little group you're putting together is what, a subset of duelling club?” Draco said. “Are we some sort of flying squad?"

"We're the Order of the Basilisk,” Harry announced. “I've got to fight this war, and I want people I know who will fight with me."

"That's a cute name,” Draco said dryly. “That shouldn't arouse any suspicion, should we get caught using it."

"You're being awfully sarcastic today. Are you really Daphne using Polyjuice? If you're Draco, then what did Madam Malkin's assistant do to me the first time we met?"

"Nothing,” Draco said at once. “The assistant, whose name is Alice, waited on me. Madam Malkin took care of you."

"So you are Draco,” Harry realized.

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

Harry faked a sad expression. “Daphne’s fun to have around.”

“I’ll make sure to tell her you said that.”

“How’s it going, boys?”

“Hi, Sirius,” Harry said.

“Hello, Sirius,” Draco said, continuing to curl his dumbbell.

Theo just waved, taking another long swig of water from his glass.

“All is well?”

“As well as can be expected,” Harry replied. “I’m actually glad to see you. Now I don’t have to go looking for you.”

“What’s up?”

"We need a way to train up. What we've been doing so far isn't enough. I want to learn to fight like you, like Mister Malfoy. You two were magnificent."

"We still lost against him," Sirius said. "He disposed of us rather handily if you remember."

"But it was useful against the Death Eaters. I want us all to have as big a chance as possible. Voldemort may have figured out how to cheat death, but his followers haven't."

"Agreed. Very well. Let’s head up to the duelling room after lunch."

Harry pushed his advantage. "Right now it’s just the three of us. We need to have the others."

“What others?”

“Pansy, Tracy, and all the rest.”

Sirius frowned. "I'm not about to just tell a bunch of people the Secret."

"I know. We need to find another place and cast the Fidelius."

"Why not Malfoy Manor?” Draco said.

"Will your dad go for it?"

"Maybe. We just have to figure out a good way to present the idea. If possible, he should suggest it himself."

"Are you seriously thinking of trying to manipulate your father?" Sirius said.

Draco nodded. "It probably won't work, but it's better than just demanding outright. He rejects all first proposals on principle."

"Won't we run into the Order though?” Harry said. “I'm not keen on Dumbledore knowing what we're up to. He's convinced that love is all you need."

"They're only in the east wing,” Draco pointed out. “We might be able to take over the south or west wings. So long as we keep informed as to when the meetings are, we should be fine."

Harry wasn’t convinced. "What about if there's not a meeting but people just drop in?"

"That might be inconvenient,” Draco said after a moment. “I'm sure the elves could be helpful in keeping them away from us until they leave. We can work it out."

"It's not a bad idea. It might end up being the easiest."

Sirius disagreed. "It would expose the Order tremendously."

"How?” Harry said. “Moody will catch anyone who spies on their little meetings. We want to be getting better. We don't have time for mission reports about no progress made."

"I do wish the Order was doing more,” Sirius admitted, “but the Ministry being so active has relegated them largely to information gathering and influence peddling. Dumbledore has some scheme brewing, but he's keeping mum. I know he believes in the prophecy, but why he hasn't taken a more active part with you, I just don't know."

"All the more reason to see to my own protection," Harry replied. "If the Headmaster won't see fit to share what he's plotting and he's neglecting my safety, I won't be helpless. Voldemort found out that he can't duel me directly. I've got to figure out a way to capitalize on that."

"I've never heard of something like that before. Admittedly I don't know a great deal about wandlore. Who you really want to talk to is-"

"-is Ollivander,” Harry finished. “So let's go to Diagon Alley."

"Now?"

Harry was impatient. "Did you have something better to do today?"

"Not at all, but don’t you want to take care of your new headquarters?”

Harry stopped short. “You’re right. We should do that. Let’s go find Mister Malfoy.”

The Malfoy patriarch was in the library with his nose in a book.

“Father, we need your help.”

“Of course, my son. What may I do for you?”

“We need to find a secure location to improve our skills. We’ve been playing at duelling so far, but we all need to get better.”

Lucius peered at them inquisitively. “Is there not a duelling room in this house? I could have sworn that I’ve seen you in there training.”

“That’s just us,” Draco replied. “We’ve got other people who need the same training.”

"Who?"

"Pansy, Millie, and everyone. Ginny."

Lucius nodded. “And you do not wish to jeopardize this house by telling the secret to so many.”

“You understand exactly.”

“I could arrange to purchase a house. I believe I could have the details finalized and the Fidelius set up in two weeks.”

“Two weeks!” Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That’s not nearly soon enough. We’ve got to start tomorrow. Today, if we can.”

“I’m afraid that’s an optimistic estimate. Real estate is by nature not rapid.”

"It’s not enough. You know how Dumbledore has his little group? I'm forming my own. Actually, I've already got my own. I've had it for years. My friends have been true to me, and I will continue to be true to them. I'm just giving it a name now. I want you and Sirius to join as well. We need you. We need you to teach us how to fight like you do. You know what the Death Eaters can do, and you've beaten them. You were both volunteering to be the Defence teacher. Teach us now. Show us how to be mighty. Show us how to be deadly graceful.”

“If it must be immediate, then there is only one place suitable. I pledged once before to give everything that I have to win this war. My home is yours.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Now that they had a headquarters, it was time to fill the membership roster. Harry wanted to start close to home. He brought up the subject that night at dinner.

Mrs. Malfoy had taken a short break from her vigil at St. Mungo’s to update the family on Elan’s recovery. Hospital food, whether magical or Muggle, was bland and unappetizing. Kreacher was very gifted in the kitchen, routinely whipping up meals that could fairly be called feasts.

It was the first night that Tonks had been able to join them for dinner since term had ended. She and her new fiance couldn’t seem to stop looking at each other. It was a bit nauseating, but at least Harry didn’t shut down when he saw them. If he couldn’t be with the one he wanted, at least someone could.

Even though they were clearly distracted by each other, they still managed to participate in the discussion. The Order members were grousing about the lack of progress. The Ministry had spent a year scrambling to ready itself for the war. In that time, Voldemort had struck often, piercing many hearts with his cold brand of terror. The Muggles had so far been kept ignorant of it all, but it was only a matter of time before Voldemort tried something really big.

Harry worried about Voldemort’s plans. He asked, “How is the Ministry responding in light of last month’s attack?”

Tonks took a sip of wine. “Security has been beefed up. All visitors are now required to wait in a holding area for ninety minutes to allow Polyjuice to wear off.”

“It only lasts an hour, right?”

“For the most part. A really gifted Potions Master could probably make it last longer, but those folk are few and far between.”

Harry knew that to be true. For the third task, Professor Snape had offered to brew more potent versions of any potion Harry thought he might need.

“All visitors must have their wands inspected. Priori Incantato is used to check for any use of Dark magic.”

“Just visitors? Not employees?”

“I expect that measure to be rolled out soon. We know there are Death Eaters in the ranks, but they’re clever enough to hide from us.”

“How about inspecting all employees for the Dark Mark?” Lucius suggested. “It’s always on the left forearm.”

“There are those who were cleared of charges from the last war.”

Lucius snorted rudely. “Pawns and dupes never received the Mark, only those who proved their loyalty. If they have it, they’re guilty.”

“I’ll suggest that to my superiors.”

“Why not go right to the top?” Sirius said. “I will suggest it to Director Bones.”

“That’s an even better idea.”

“So you proved your loyalty, Uncle Lucius? I seem to remember you proclaiming your innocence loudly and often.”

Lucius’ lips twisted in a wry smile. “You are an exceedingly clever woman, Nymphadora.”

“Don’t call me that. It’s Auror training. We learn to pick up on inconsistencies in suspects’ stories. It’s habit by now.”

“Caught by my own cleverness. Very well. This is for the family only, but yes, I was a true and loyal Death Eater. I believed Voldemort when he talked about the rightful place of wizards in the world. I participated in the killing of Muggles. There is blood on my hands. I justified myself, because the Muggles have so much blood on their own hands. I figured a little more would make no difference. It wasn’t until I saw him torture his own followers, pureblooded wizards from noble families, that I realized the horrible mistake I had made. And after that, I continued to spill innocent blood. How could I not? I had to do everything I could to protect my wife and later my son. Voldemort had no more loyal Death Eater than I.”

“It was a different time, Lucius,” Mrs. Malfoy said softly, taking her husband’s hand.

“It makes my sins no easier to bear.”

Silence ruled the table for a few moments. Harry thought the conversation, though serious before, had gotten entirely too heavy. He decided to turn back to the original subject.

“Will any of the new security really help?”

“A bit,” Tonks said. “Ultimately, there’s no way to make a place entirely secure. All you can do is have Aurors standing by and ready.”

“I wonder what Dumbledore plans to do for Hogwarts,” Harry mused.

“The castle has the best defences known to wizardkind,” Remus said. “The Founders laid down many enchantments, and successive headmasters have continued to build upon them. Dumbledore’s been in charge for just about fifty years now. I’m sure he’s added all sorts of arcane protections.”

Harry snorted. “Hogwarts may have the best defences, but it isn’t exactly the safest place ever. I have a list of bad things that have happened in that school that’s far too long to go through right now. I think the old man’s gone crackers, myself. That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about, Tonks. You're a member of the Order. You obviously are fighting in this war. I've never asked you what you thought of Dumbledore personally."

Tonks considered that. "He's a great wizard. He always struck me as a bit odd, but he always treated me fairly. I got into a fair scrape of trouble at Hogwarts, too. I honestly didn't know quite what to think when he asked me to join the Order. Proud, I guess you could say. It was nice to know that the wizard who defeated Grindelwald and held off the next up and comer thought I was strong enough for the fight. Hufflepuff doesn't exactly have that reputation. It always hacked me off in school, and I jumped at the chance to prove we're just as good as any other witch or wizard."

Sirius had a point to add. "As much as we all revere the man for what he has done in the past, I think it's very important that we make sure he's still up to scratch in the brain area. He's made a number of very questionable decisions, and I'm not convinced that he has Harry's best interests as a priority."

"You're talking about the prophecy,” Tonks said. “I never heard what it said. You think he's more interested in seeing it fulfilled than making sure Harry survives it?"

Harry had actually forgotten that Tonks knew about the prophecy. At an Order meeting last year, they had discussed a bit how they’d made contact with the Unspeakables and warned them of Voldemort’s interest in the hall of prophecy.

"That's it in one,” Sirius said. “He claims to care for Harry's well-being, and I'd like to believe him. I just don't see the evidence for it. We are forming our own faction. Our priority is to keep Harry alive and defeat Voldemort. You're a Black by blood and about to be a Marauder by marriage. Despite your best efforts, you're still committing incest, because I consider Remus my brother. We'll be one family and in the best pureblood tradition will look after our own. Everyone has a part to play."

"Do you want me to leave the Order?"

"Not yet. Not until it is plain that Dumbledore has lost his faculties. Consider this a backup plan. If he can lead us to victory, so much the better. If he leads us to failure, we need not follow him."

Tonks met Harry’s eyes. "You’re a good kid. I'll do what I can for you. Sure. I'm in."

“We’ll need you to train us.”

“Glad to.”

“I’d also like to invite your parents.”

“Yeah? Mum’ll be thrilled.”

Harry nodded. “We could really use a Healer on-call, and I’m sure we’d all like to learn a few spells that would be good in an emergency.”

“It makes sense. Aurors actually have eight weeks of training at St. Mungo’s for battlefield healing.”

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “They must come to the manor. I’ll have the elves make a very special dinner. Everyone’s welcome, of course.”

“Except me,” Lucius said with a twisted smile.

“Oh, I’d forgotten.”

“Kreacher is more than adequate in the kitchen,” Sirius said.

“But he doesn’t know the recipes that my elves know. Would he be very offended if I brought my elves as well?”

“Probably.”

“What if he were in charge and the other elves were just there to help him?”

“He always insists that he doesn’t need any help.”

“What if it were a chance to learn?” Harry suggested. “We could tell him that if he learns the recipes from the Malfoy elves, he’ll be better able to serve his family.”

“Now that is brilliant,” Sirius said after a moment’s thought.

So that is what they did.

Ted and Andromeda arrived promptly at six. Dinner was served at half-six. Kreacher served drinks in the sitting room, where the fire crackled cheerfully.

Sirius was the first to bring up business. "Has Dumbledore approached you yet about joining his little organization?"

Andromeda shook her head. "Not yet."

"I'd like to make a preemptive invitation. Harry's forming his own faction.”

“Faction?” Ted said, raising his eyebrows.

“There are already three factions in the wizarding world,” Harry replied. “There's the Ministry, Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix. Well I'm adding a fourth: Harry Potter and the Order of the Basilisk.”

”We could use your skills, and Ted's," Sirius said to Andromeda.

"My skills?” Ted said with some surprise.

“Unless Andy was exaggerating when she talked about what a talented wizard you are.”

“I’m no warrior.”

“No, but you are a very able administrator. We need people for more than just the front lines.”

“This is true.”

They turned to Harry. “Why do you feel it necessary to form your own group?” Andromeda said.

“I don't trust that Dumbledore has my best interests at heart. I need people I know will watch my back. I need people I can trust. I need family. I need blood.”

Andromeda nodded, looking thoughtful.

"It's going to be a dangerous fight. I won't lie about that. I've already gotten one person killed.”

“What happened to Laine wasn’t your fault, Harry,” said Sirius.

“As much mine as anybody’s.”

“How about Bellatrix?”

“Yeah, she’s mostly responsible, I guess. She needs to die.”

“Yes,” murmured Andromeda.

Harry flushed. “Sorry. I know she’s your sister, but-”

“Forget it, Harry. She wouldn’t think twice about torturing and killing me, my husband, our daughter, or anyone else at this table. I only have one sister.”

Mrs. Malfoy’s smile was beatific.

Andromeda and Ted shared an intense look for a few moments.

“Very well,” he said. “We’re in.”

"Excellent! The headquarters of the Order of the Basilisk may be found at 1 High Street, Wilton."

“You’re the Secret Keeper, Lucius?”

“I am. I cast the Fidelius to keep my family safe, but due to the Dark Mark upon my arm, I cannot return there. The connection to Voldemort betrays me. That is why I live here now.”

“That’s awfully noble of you to sacrifice yourself.”

“I can do nothing else for my family.”

“Quite brave, too. It’s almost Gryffindorish.”

“I’m starting to like you, Ted. There’s no need to be insulting.”

“If the Dark Mark betrays the Secret, why not recast the Charm with a new Keeper?”

Lucius seemed stunned by that simple question. “Who?”

“Any of us without a Dark Mark would probably suffice.”

“I cannot ask another to take this risk.”

“Fine,” Ted said as though the matter had been decided. “I’ll do it.”

Lucius was stunned for a fraction of a moment. “I just said-”

“You’re not asking me, Lucius. I’m volunteering. You can still cast the spell. I’ll just be the Keeper.”

“It will mean telling all of Dumbledore’s Order again. It could raise his suspicion.”

“Do we even need to tell them?” Harry said. ”We’d be much better off if they didn’t know.”

“They’d be more suspicious if they suddenly couldn’t remember where headquarters was,” Lucius said wryly. “No, I promised Dumbledore all of my efforts in this war, and I will not renege on my word. Not without a very good reason, anyway.”

“A new Secret Keeper tightens security even more, something he should be happy with,” Sirius noted.

“Then it’s settled,” Ted said. “We can even do it after dinner if you like.”

“If you’ll write down the Secret, I can take it to all the Order members so they don’t even know who the Secret Keeper is.”

 


	3. Wounded

Now that he had the adults on board, it was time for Harry to recruit his friends. It took a series of carefully worded letters to set up the secret meetings. It was not necessary to be told the Secret in order to be taken inside it by someone who already knew. Even the Secret Keeper could Side-Along a person without giving it away. Revelation of the Secret required deliberate intent, either verbal or written.

It was conceivable that Sirius and Remus could bring the whole gang into Malfoy Manor, but Lucius hadn’t dared to go there to tell them the Secret. They would have had to bring everyone to Number Twelve and then over to Malfoy Manor, and that was just too much Apparating around. Now that they had changed the Secret Keeper, all they had to do was show a piece of parchment.

The first stop was Pansy. They had arranged to meet her at precisely 9:37 AM in Diagon Alley. She was not waiting for them in front of Potage's Cauldron Shop like she was supposed to be.

"We stay no more than five minutes," Lucius said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Hey, sugar," said a drawling, female voice to his left. "I'm afraid I've gone and got my little old self lost. Are you from around here? Can you help me out?"

The voice belonged to a blonde girl with a nose too big for her face. She was very pretty otherwise, despite too much make-up. She wore a short denim robe with white cowboy boots and a matching ten-gallon hat. She had a red kerchief tied loosely around her neck.

"Sure," Harry said tentatively. Could this be a Death Eater trick?

"I'm trying to get to Ollivander's. I've heard he's the best in these parts fer wands. My brother Daryl couldn't find a good wand in Texas, so we figured we'd try here since Old Man Horrigan said he's the best, and Old Man Horrigan is Texas' best wandman. We tried every wand in his workshop, do you believe that? He even made a few custom. Nothin'."

Harry was quite certain that no Death Eater could keep up that accent convincingly as long as this girl had. Still, she might be on some sort of Death Eater exchange program from America. "That's quite a story, Miss -?"

"I'm Miss Scarlett Shotton of the great state of Texas. Pleased to meet you, Mister -?"

"Neville Longbottom," Harry lied blithely. "I'm pleased to meet you too. Ollivander's is on the south side. You're on the north, I'm afraid. I apologize that I can't escort you there personally. I have an urgent appointment that I cannot miss."

She looked disappointed by that, but she smiled at him a moment later.

"Miss Shotton will have no need of any escort, Harry," Lucius said dryly. "Well done, Miss Parkinson. You fooled him completely."

"Pansy?" Harry said with gaping shock.

She giggled delightedly. "Surprise!"

"Are you using Polyjuice?"

"Polyjuice," she scoffed. "Only amateurs need Polyjuice. Magic and make-up, Harry. Thank you so much for not noticing. I'm quite pleased with myself."

"Oh good," Harry said. "Can we get out of here now?"

Lucius handed her a folded piece of parchment. She read it, nodded, and handed it back. He tucked it carefully in an inner pocket of his robes. Harry offered her his arm and focused on the great seal at Malfoy Manor. With a  _ pop! _ they Disapparated.

Draco was waiting for them, and though he was surely surprised by the presence of this strange witch, he stepped forward and greeted Pansy in a most gentlemanly fashion.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said, her Dixie accent back in place.

"My pleasure, Miss -?"

"Scarlett Shotton, sir."

"Miss Shotton," Draco said, taking the hand she offered him and bringing it gently to his lips without breaking eye contact.

"Knock it off, Pansy," Harry said, coming to his best mate's rescue.

She stomped her foot and huffed. "Harry, you've spoiled it!"

"I know,” he said as he smirked at her. “I'm a horrible human being."

"You are,” she pouted. “You never let me have any fun."

"Oh, Pansy, if you had any more fun, you might start hugging everyone like a Hufflepuff who got hit with a Cheering Charm."

Pansy considered the possibility seriously. "I would never have made it as a Hufflepuff, though it might have been interesting to see how much I could get away with simply because everyone has these preconceived notions of what Hufflepuffs are."

Draco shook off his surprise. “You are lovely, Pansy. It’s a good look for you. I think you should keep it.”

“If you want a blonde, ask Daphne out. If you don’t break up with Ginny first, though, I’ll make sure you rue the day.”

“ _ She _ would make me rue the day. You know how good her Bat-Bogey Hex is.”

Draco and Pansy continued bickering, and Harry took comfort in the normality as he sipped a glass of water and rested for his next Apparition. Lucius would have returned to Number Twelve to wait until the appointed time. Voldemort was able to track his movements if he stayed in one place for longer than 33 minutes.

Tracy met them half an hour later at 10:07 AM. She approached the wall that led back into the Leaky Cauldron and tapped three bricks with her wand -- the wrong bricks.

"What's going on here?" she said in a voice loud enough to be overheard. She repeated the taps. “Am I seeing things backward?"

"No, but they might be upside down," Harry said, completing the pass phrase. He pulled off his invisibility cloak.

"Hello, Harry. How are you?"

"I'm still here. That's something, I guess."

"You're not sleeping well," she said, looking intently at him.

Harry wondered the likelihood of getting out of this conversation without telling Tracy absolutely everything.  _ Probably very small, and I don’t have the energy to resist her. _

"No, not really,” he answered honestly. “I keep having these horrible dreams about us all getting captured, tortured, even turned to the Dark side. Sirius gets killed a lot. I always seem to live, though. Voldemort seems to want me to suffer watching you all die incredible graphic deaths not suitable for polite conversation."

"Have you tried Dreamless Sleep?"

"Yeah, it helps, but I can't take the stuff every night. I can't avoid what I'm going through. I've got to work this all out."

Impulsively she hugged him. "Yes, we will. I'm here if you want to talk about anything."

"Thanks. Shall we?"

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to give the all-clear sign to Lucius, and he's going to tell you the Secret. Then I’ll Apparate you to headquarters. You'll find out more tonight."

“You can Apparate?”

“I can.”

"Stellar."

Harry brought Tracy back to headquarters, feeling a bit woozy. He had only gotten the hang of Side-Along Apparition recently and had to take a bit of a longer break before he was able to leave again.

He focused on Madam Puddifoot's tea shoppe in Hogsmeade. He turned sideways and flung his invisibility cloak back about his shoulders. He made his way down the empty street to the Three Broomsticks. He had forty minutes until he and Sirius were to rendezvous with Millie and Arcen.

Molly Weasley bustled over to the table. "What can I get for you today, dears? The special is the best chicken sandwich you'll ever eat with a side of pasta salad you'll ask for seconds on.”

“I’ll have that,” Harry said.

True to her word, the meal was outstanding. Harry asked for a third helping of the pasta salad and groaned when he pushed his empty plate away. He clutched his stomach theatrically, feeling so very satisfied.

“I want to take a nap.”

“Me too,” Sirius said. “Molly’s a phenomenal cook.”

“How much time do we have? There’s no way I can Apparate when I’m this full.”

With Daphne still recovering in St. Mungo’s and Crabbe and Goyle both in hiding with their families, the last Slytherin in Harry’s year was Millie. She and her younger brother Arcen were waiting for Harry when he arrived. She’d sent a picture of a copse of trees on the grounds and was presently climbing one. Arcen sat in the rope swing, and she was amusing herself by dropping acorns on his head.

“Hey, Harry,” she said. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I bet. You look like hell. Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah. Bad dreams.”

“Laine?”

“Amongst others. I’ll tell you all about them later. Are you ready?”

“Let’s go.”

Harry pulled out his magic mirror and called for Sirius, who was on guard duty. He came over quickly and showed them the parchment with the Secret on it. Harry was still breathing heavily from so much Apparating, so he let Sirius Side-Along Arcen and Millie to headquarters, not trusting himself to not Splinch. 

Harry’s next destination was the Weasley house, known as the Burrow. He’d never actually seen the place, nor would he since the eldest Weasley son, Bill, a curse breaker for Gringotts, had put the Fidelius Charm in place. Harry had arranged to meet Ginny in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. It was a Muggle village, so Harry borrowed the motorbike from Sirius and travelled the roads.

He made quite a stir as he roared into town with his dragonhide jacket and flame-decorated helmet. 

Ginny was waiting for him in front of the chemist. She wore a simple summer dress with a blue flowered print that came down to her knees. She had plain sandals on her feet and a white flower in her flaming red hair. She had no makeup on, but she looked quite lovely.

“Hi, Harry. Nice bike.”

“Hi, Ginny. Thanks. It’s not mine. I’m just borrowing it.”

“I didn’t even know you had your license.”

He winked at her. “Who says I do?”

She giggled. “Do I need a helmet?”

Sirius had provided an extra helmet that Harry handed over. Ginny took the flower out of her hair and handed it to him. 

“You probably shouldn’t have worn a dress though.”

“I’ve got shorts on underneath. I didn’t know if we might be ambushed, so I wanted to be ready for anything. Constant vigilance, you know.”

“Constant vigilance!”

Ginny looked a bit strange wearing the plain black helmet, but she climbed up behind Harry without hesitation. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, and Harry felt a lump in his throat, wishing she could be Laine.

Harry waited until they were in a heavily wooded area to activate the invisibility charms. They vanished from sight, and Harry activated the flight booster.

“Hold on!” he called over his shoulder.

Ginny whooped as they bounced hard and soared into the sky.

“This is  _ great! _ ” she yelled over the wind. “Reminds me of dad’s car.”

“Your father has a flying car?”

“Nobody’s supposed to know.”

“I won’t tell a soul.”

The ride to London didn’t take long. Harry roared to a stop at the little park near Grimmauld Place where Sirius met them.

“Miss Weasley,” he said, bowing slightly.

“Mister Black. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise. Shall we?”

“Sure. See you soon, Harry.”

Recruitment complete for the nonce, Harry took the motorbike back to Number Twelve and Apparated to Malfoy Manor. The headquarters of the Order of the Basilisk was the south wing of Malfoy Manor. The ballroom had been repurposed for combat training. Along the back wall stood twenty Duelling Dummies, purchased from the shop that had opened in Hogsmeade in October of last year. The proprietor, Mr. Fawcett (father of Percy’s girlfriend Lynn), had boasted about the high quality of the built-in Restoration Charm. They were guaranteed to return to pristine, fully functional condition for two years. The exact mechanism of how the Charm remained intact despite thousands of spells being cast on the Dummies was a trade secret. Harry didn’t care how it worked as long as it did and they got their money’s worth. The things had cost a king’s ransom, and with good reason; they also had the capability to cast spells in return. They were limited to the Stunning Charm, the Disarming Charm, a swarm of Stinging Hexes, and a dozen other spells of the non-dangerous variety. They didn’t need the things to do Severing Curses, since getting hit with any spell cast by a Death Eater was a bad idea.

The gang wasn’t all there. Counting himself, there were only eight underage wizards. Harry felt a pang of concern for Daphne, who he knew would be a vital part of the group. Her bubbly personality and ability to crack jokes would help them all get through these dark times. Crabbe and Goyle were missing in action as well. They were both in hiding, and Harry understood that. The Ministry had care of their families, under the protection of the Aurors. Lucas had not responded to any owls.

Draco was keeping everyone engaged in conversation. He had one arm around Ginny’s shoulders, and she had one on his waist. The girls were glad to see that Theo was talking again, and Pansy was still being really nice to him. Tracy and Millie were giggling when she wasn’t looking. Nobody was really paying attention to Arcen. Remus and Tonks were holding hands.

“Thank you all for coming,” Harry said, raising his voice to make sure it carried. “As you know, we’ve all come together for one purpose: to defeat Voldemort, by any means necessary. When I was talking with Professor Quirrell right before he showed me Voldemort, he said, 'There is no good and evil but only power, and those too weak to seek it.' I don't really agree with that. I think power can be put to good or bad use. I intend to put mine to good. You're here because I think you agree with me about that. If you don't agree, say so now. We'll give you a Memory Charm and send you home. That goes for anyone, at any time.”

Everyone looked around, wondering if anyone would back out. Though most were not Gryffindors, like Ginny had been once upon a time, they all had the courage to stay.

"One of the things that needs to be said at the outset is that the Ministry's authority ends at the front door. What is said and done within these walls is none of their business. We as free wizards agree amongst ourselves that we shall undertake all measures to defeat our enemy. If you want to work on resisting the Imperius Curse, you will find someone who will cast it upon you, and it will not be illegal for two consenting adults to do this."

Draco was smirking at him, and Harry considered his words in a different context. He flushed red and stammered on.

Theo raised his hand. “Will we be able to practice Dark magic?”

Harry shook his head ruefully. "You sound far too eager for that. In learning how to fight, we will be learning what some would call Dark magic. You and I know that Dark magic is a matter of symbolism and intent. We won't be using any human skulls, but we might use graveyard dirt. We won't be raising a horde of zombies, but we might need to employ Necromancy to fight them or take control of them. Our intent is to rid the world of evil. So long as we hold this noble goal in our hearts, our magical spirit will remain pure. In some cases it is possible to substitute neutral components for dark components, and this we will do whenever feasible.

"For now this will be a lot like the duelling club, except we will ignore any restrictions set by the Ministry or the Wizengamot. They can’t tell us what we can and can’t do to defend ourselves. The Death Eaters aren’t going to play by the rules; nor should we. In a time of war, the natural law of self-defense is more important. We'll learn new spells, new ways of applying old spells we already know, and how to do more than just cast hexes and curses. Transfiguration is so fundamentally important in a duel, I can't even tell you. I don't know why they never show you the uses it can be put to. I mean, McGonagall's turning into a cat is stellar, but turning a giant snake into a flame pillar or millions of shards of broken glass into sand is mind-blowing. Charms is important as well, the cousin of hexes and jinxes.

Harry let them soak that in for a few moments before he continued. “Who’s the best in our year at Herbology?”

Tracy replied, “Longbottom, without a doubt. It’s the only thing he’s good at.”

Harry had worked with Longbottom quite a bit in the duelling club and objected to that outdated characterization. “Don’t sell him short. He’s getting better at duelling, and I bet he could come up with a dozen ways Herbology can be used in a fight. I bet he knows a dozen deadly species off the top of his head. Bring a few seeds along, pour a phial of Aging Potion over them, and voila! Instant carnivorous plant."

The adults nodded as Harry defended Longbottom. Sirius gave him a thumbs up.

"Potions are a way to prepare for a fight. What's the shelf-life on a Blood Replenisher?"

The kids looked at each other questioningly. Even the adults didn’t know the answer.

"Remind me to invite Professor Snape to join. We're going to want his help to make potions that will keep for a longer time." Harry didn't plan to reveal Snape's role as a spy in Voldemort's inner circle. The fewer people who knew about that the better. "We'll stock up on the important ones."

Draco chimed in. "I'm converting one of the rooms to a proper potions lab, but it will not be ready for several days. The stone will be there, but ingredients must be ordered. The family apothecaries only have so much.

“That will be very useful,” Harry said. "Who here knows how to Apparate?"

Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Lucius raised their hands. Harry and Draco did too. Surprisingly, so did Pansy.

"My mother insisted, as soon as I was old enough to know what boys and girls did together. She told me that some barbaric wizards actually think to force themselves upon a gentle witch, that sometimes a wand is not at hand or can be taken. Such was in fact how the Apparition was first discovered by Katrina von Scheiffere. Her determination was unmatched, and she thought very clearly of her childhood home. I never did get how she managed the sideways step. I’ve only done it a few times though, and only to places I could actually see."

"I think it's obvious who taught us," Harry said dryly. "They'll teach you guys too. It's rough. I won't lie. You may not get it by the start of term, but at least we have proper lessons this year. Draco, Pansy, and I will be their best students. The rest of you will get it in time. We have some very gifted, very talented witches and wizards to help us. Please let’s all try to understand that as much as we may hate them in a given moment for how hard they are pushing us, we understand what is needed to achieve our highest potential.”

“And you will hate us,” Sirius said with a cheeky grin. “I’m making it a personal challenge to myself that every one of you will cuss me out at some point.”

Draco groaned. “Can I do it now and save myself the agony?”

Harry tried not to let a grin ruin his train of thought. “We are in, obviously, Malfoy Manor. We do not have free run of the place. Dumbledore has his own group that operates outside the Ministry. If you haven't heard of it yet, they're called the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius, is there any reason the old man chose that name?"

Sirius shook his head. "He hasn't said. There is a plethora of theories, but the best guess is that it has to do with Fawkes the phoenix. Just  _ what _ to do with it is another matter entirely. I think it's just an impressive-sounding name. It sounds very mysterious and important."

That sounded like something Dumbledore would do. He was big on style. "Anyway, this is also their headquarters. I’m allowed to sit in on their meetings now. With the help of the house elves, we should be able to stay out of their way.

“I don't have a phoenix, but most of the people in this room know that Salazar Slytherin's personal basilisk is still alive in the Chamber of Secrets. I can open the Chamber, and I command the the beast within. At least according to Hogwarts legend, I am the Heir of Slytherin. Maybe I'm descended from him; maybe 'heir' in this sense doesn't mean a blood relation. I don't know, but I've decided to call this little group the Order of the Basilisk."

"I like it," Draco said immediately. "It feels like we're wrapped up in tradition. What could be more noble than idealizing our Founder?"

"Salazar Slytherin would not have approved of what Tom Riddle has become. In the Chamber, I found a journal written by himself where he talked about the dangers posed by Muggles. He didn’t trust Muggleborns, but only because of their connections to Muggles, not anything inherent in their blood. We’re going to go back to our Founder’s vision.”

"Well I'm not a Slytherin. I'm a Hufflepuff," Tonks said proudly. "As much as I like the idea that you all want advanced combat training, I won't forget where I come from. Too much egotism and house-based bluster will be brought up short."

"There is much that Gryffindor can teach as well,” Sirius added. “I won't have anyone speaking in stereotypes. I understand that there's some bad blood between you lot and some other boys. That's the nature of children. I know it's a foregone conclusion that you'll be running them down, but leave the house insults out of it."

Harry nodded firmly. "We’ll do that. Unless there are any questions, I'd like to get started on a drill.”

Draco raised his hand. “If a Chaser on a Cleansweep Six leaves Nottingham at four o’clock travelling north, and a Beater whacks a Bludger at him from York at quarter past five, what time will the Chaser fall off his broom?”

“Any relevant questions?”

There were none.

“Right then. First up, non-verbal spellcasting. I first saw Professor Snape do this in fourth year. Auror Baldi told us about it last year. If you’re shouting out what magic you’re using, it’s incredibly easy for your opponent to counter it. Mister Malfoy, would you enlighten us?”

The owner of the house cleared his throat. “Sixth year is where your teachers will begin to expect you to perform non-verbal spells. Not only in Defence but in Charms and Transfiguration as well.”

“All subjects that are useful in combat,” Harry interjected.

“Yes. Magic is ultimately nothing more than your will channeled through a magical implement. There is nothing special about the words we say. A British wizard can cast the exact same magic as a German wizard or a Chinese wizard. All that matters is the will of the magic user. Not announcing your magic to your enemy gives you a much better chance to defeat him. If you’re creative enough to invent your own spells, they can be absolutely devastating. Consider the case of Miss Greengrass. She went up against a Death Eater named Dolohov, and he cast a unique spell on her. She could not defend against it, and she is still in St. Mungo’s as a result.”

“Is there any news on her?” Pansy said.

“She continues to improve. She should be back to full health in time for term to begin.”

“Thank Merlin!”

Mr. Malfoy continued, “So we will begin with a simple spell that you all know: the Disarming Charm. Pair off and attempt to cast the spell without speaking.”

Harry and Draco faced off. Millie was smirking at Arcen, and he groaned. Pansy stepped towards Theo, leaving Tracy to work with Ginny.

Though his best mate was grinning at him, Harry was quite nervous. He always got a bit jittery when he was trying something new.

It was one of the hardest things Harry had ever tried to do, and that included becoming an Animagus. Even Apparition was easier. He’d spent five years speaking his spells, worrying about perfect pronunciation. Breaking that habit seemed impossible.

None of the other pairs was having any success either. Everyone had their faces scrunched up with concentration. Harry thought they all looked constipated, himself included. There  _ was _ a great deal of cursing, just not the kind made with magic. Theo was breathing heavily, and his attempts were punctuated with grunts and sharp breaths. Millie broke out into a sweat from her exaggerated wand motions.

Lucius walked from pair to pair, continuing his lecture. “It has previously been suggested that to render a Death Eater harmless all one has to do is hit him with a Silencing Charm. With what you have been taught thusfar, that is true. However, if the Death Eater happens to be talented with non-verbals, he will be no less deadly. The only harmless Death Eater is a dead Death Eater.”

“What if they’ve been Stunned?” Millie said.

“If they have been Stunned, they can be revived. You all know the charm that does it: Renervate. All magic can be reversed. No matter the nastiness of the hex or curse you use, there is a counter to it. There is no reversal for death.”

“The Killing Curse is illegal and Unforgivable,” Ginny said.

He brushed her words aside. “One need not use the Killing Curse to kill. It is the quickest, the cleanest way, but it is not the only way.”

“He’s right,” Harry said. “If you Banish a razor at someone’s throat, they’re going to bleed to death. Same with a Cutting Curse. If you hit someone’s neck with a Bludgeoner, you’ll collapse his windpipe. A Bone-Breaker to the neck is just as deadly.”

“Those are all very effective,” Lucius said approvingly. “We’ll delve into more methods as we go on. For now, the Disarming Charm, if you please.”

They spent several hours on non-verbal spellcasting, and nobody managed it yet. Frustrations were running high, and tempers were running short. Nobody minded a bit of toil so long as there was visible improvement. With normal spellcasting, one could see improved accuracy and precision. At the present moment there was nothing but failure. Slytherins did not like to fail.

“Can we try something else?” Millie said. “I’d like to feel as though we made some progress today.”

“Certainly,” Harry said. “Want to try Apparating?”

“It might be nice to not have to rely on someone else to get to and from headquarters.”

“I want to become an Animagus,” Theo said. “Sirius, will you show me?”

“I’ll certainly try.” He looked around the group. “Anyone else? It’ll take at least a year, and that’s only if you have the talent for it.”

“I want to work on attack spells,” Draco said.

“I want to hear about how Transfiguration can be used in battle,” Ginny said. “Old McGonagall gives me pretty decent marks.”

They split up into smaller groups. Sirius took Theo and Tracy to a more quiet room for an overview of the Animagus transformation. Lucius took Millie, Pansy, and Arcen to one end of the ballroom to work on Apparition. Remus and Tonks stayed at the other end of the ballroom with Draco, Ginny, and Harry to work on combat magic.

Remus had been the best Defence teacher they’d ever had. They’d covered a lot of Dark creatures in third year, but he was no slouch with his wandwork either. Tonks was a fully qualified Auror, and between the pair of them, Harry, Ginny, and Draco were soon sweating from their exertions. Some of the spells they were learning were beyond N.E.W.T. level. Harry hoped he would never have to use some of them but knew it was a futile hope.

“Well done, Miss Parkinson!” came Lucius’ voice from the other end of the room.

“I did it!” she shrieked gleefully.

“Congratulations, Pansy!” Harry called.

“Did you see me, Harry?”

“I missed it,” he said regretfully. “Can you do it again and show me?”

“I think so.”

“No, Miss Parkinson, you  _ will _ do it again,” Lucius commanded.

Pansy closed her eyes and  _ popped _ again. She reappeared several feet away to a round of applause. She curtsied gracefully and  _ popped _ again.

Draco muttered a few choice words. He’d struggled to get the hang of Apparition.

“Well done, Miss Parkinson,” Lucius declared with satisfaction. “The rest of you see how easy it is? Continue. Miss Parkinson, you will now move yourself to the family room next door. You can picture it, yes?”

This was a little trickier. Her face twisted with concentration.

Pansy  _ popped _ but screamed as she vanished, and one of her arms fell to the floor.

“She’s Splinched herself!” Lucius shouted.

Harry, closest to the door, bolted for the other room. Pansy lay in a heap on the floor, blood pooling on the floor beneath her. She was missing not one but  _ both _ arms.

“We need some help in here!” he yelled.

Lucius and Sirius came running, Lucius holding the one arm. “Dobby! Nibby!” he called out. “Search the manor! Find the other arm!”

As the elves vanished, Lucius cast the spell to restore the limb. There was a puff of purple smoke, and half the damage was repaired. He tried to stop the bleeding from the other wound, but still it trickled.

The elves returned perhaps thirty seconds later with the missing limb. “Miss Parky’s arm was in the underground laboratory,” Dobby squeaked.

Lucius cast the spell again, and Pansy was physically whole again. She was very pale, and she seemed to be in a state of shock.

“We need Andromeda immediately,” Lucius said.

Sirius  _ popped _ out without wasteful words. A minute later, they heard him and Andromeda arrive and hit the ground running.

“Give me room to work,” she said in a no-nonsense tone as she knelt down by Pansy. Despite the urgency of her summoning, Andromeda was cool and unhurried as she went about her business. “You said she Splinched herself?”

“Yes,” Sirius said, panting like a dog.

“Whoever stuck her arms back on did a good job.”

“Thank you,” Lucius said.

“But she’s lost a lot of blood. Sirius, help her sit up.”

Andromeda reached into a bag that seemed far too small to contain the three potions she removed. “Pansy, you must drink this.”

The first, a dark red solution Harry recognized as a Blood-Replenisher, she held to Pansy’s lips.

“Now for a general pain blocker, maximum strength.”

Pansy also swallowed the bright blue potion without complaint and without a hint of a grimace on her face.

“Lastly, a potion to make you sleep. Lucius, she should not be moved more than is necessary.”

“Dobby, Nibby, prepare a guest bedroom for Miss Parkinson.”

The elves bowed and vanished.

Pansy was still dazed and confused, but at least she no longer seemed to be in pain. Harry hated the helpless feelings welling up inside him as he watched her.

“Guest room is ready, Master.”

Andromeda levitated Pansy with a quick “ _ Mobilicorpus! _ ” and allowed Nibby to lead her from the room.

“Let her rest tonight, children. You can talk to her tomorrow.”

Then she was gone, taking their collective breath with her.

“That, children,” Lucius said dryly, “is why one must take the utmost care when Apparating. Draco and Harry have both Splinched themselves several times. If not for the rapid medical attention they received, they and Miss Parkinson would have died. I believe that is enough for today. I must communicate with her parents. Please excuse me.”

“Well, that was exciting,” Draco noted with vast understatement.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m knackered,” Harry said, all his energy leaving with his apprehension. That had been a few very tense moments.

The others agreed.

“Meeting over. Let’s unwind a bit.”

Draco summoned Dobby and Nibby, who served tea and sandwiches. Nobody had much appetite after seeing Pansy so wounded. Even though she would apparently be fine, the memory of all the blood lingered, destroying the urge to eat. The adults went off to converse amongst themselves, leaving the kids to their own devices.

“So how come you get to sit in on the other meetings?” Draco asked enviously.

Harry stretched a sore muscle in his shoulder. “You remember how I was always going off to Snape’s office last year?”

“Yeah. You told us it was prefect stuff, but Pansy didn’t have any idea what it was about.”

“It wasn’t prefect stuff. I was having secret lessons. Have you ever heard of Occlumency?”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “It’s about mental defence, right?”

“Yes.” Harry tapped his scar. “This has some sort of connection to Voldemort, and they wanted me able to protect my mind from him.”

“They?”

“Dumbledore, Snape, Sirius, and everyone. There’s no risk that I’ll inadvertently let Voldemort know about Dumbledore’s secret plans now, so I’m allowed to know what’s going on.”

“Neat trick,” Draco observed. “I wonder if they’d give me the same.”

“You want to sit in on the meetings?” Harry said skeptically.

Draco thought for a moment. “Not really, no. They don’t do very much, do they?”

“I think the most important thing they discuss is when to have the next meeting,” Harry scoffed.

“When’s our next meeting?” Millie said. “How will we get back here?”

“Soon, I hope,” he said flippantly. “When you all master Apparition, you’ll be able to transport yourself to and from headquarters without any problems. Until then, you’ll need to Side-Along with one of us. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather do it in the morning after I’ve had some sleep.”

“Let’s all just stay here,” Millie said. “There are plenty of rooms. It’ll be fun.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said. He fought a yawn and lost.

“I’ll need to write to my parents,” Ginny said. “If they get home from work and find I’m not there, they’ll go spare.”

Harry goggled at her. “You didn’t tell them you were leaving?”

Ginny snickered. “And be told I couldn’t? What’s the point in that?”

For all that Ginny tried so hard to be a Slytherin, sometimes her true Gryffindor spirit came shining through.

It was about an hour later when Arlette returned from the Burrow. Instead of a letter, she carried a burning-red Howler. Harry had heard about them but never seen one.

“Better open it,” Draco advised. “It’ll only be worse.”

“No,  _ don’t _ open it,” Arcen pleaded. “I want to find out what happens when you don’t.”

“I’ll send you one,” Ginny quipped as she opened the envelope.

As Mrs. Weasley’s furious voice began to shake the room, Harry hoped he never received one of his own.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley! How  _ dare _ you leave the house without permission? Don’t you know how dangerous it is out there? You’re only safe within the enchantments on the house! Death Eaters could snatch you up! You could be killed! You could be captured and defiled! You could simply disappear, and we’d never know what happened to you! You are grounded for the rest of the summer! Get yourself home immediately!”

The Howler burst into flames. Bits of ash drifted down across the table.

“I think she took it rather well,” Ginny said calmly.

“That was well?” Draco said incredulously.

“For her, yes. She does have a tendency to overreact sometimes. It’s that famous Prewett temper. You know how Ron can get?”

“Oh yes,” Draco said fervently.

“He gets it from her. Something will get her knickers in a twist, she’ll fly off the handle, explode, rant, and eventually calm down. She’ll get over this. I don’t think I should go home for awhile though. Can I stay here for a week or so?”

“Sure,” Draco said.

“No,” said Sirius.

“My father-”

“-would agree with me,” Sirius interrupted firmly. “We can’t kidnap her.”

“But I don’t want to go home!” she protested, her volume raising a bit.

Sirius stared her down. “You’re just going to have to work things out with your parents. I can approve of sneaking out without permission, but I won’t be a party to your running away from home. Come on. I’ll take you home now.”

“I don’t even get to stay the night? Everyone else does.”

“Everyone else wasn’t ordered to come home. Let’s go.”

“Sirius, didn’t you run away from home once?” Draco said pointedly.

Sirius smiled. “If you’re really comparing her parents and mine, I think we might have to hurt you. Come on, Ginny.”

Draco was a bit mopey after his girlfriend left. Harry suspected he’d had plans to lure her away from the group for a little bit of snogging.

“Cheer up, mate. She’ll be back. You really think her parents will keep her locked up all summer?”

“They did it last summer,” he said mournfully.

Harry had to laugh at him. “Yes, but she’s got more incentive to escape now. Ginny’s resourceful. I bet we’ll see her before the week is out.”

“I hope so.”

“Don’t dwell on it.” Harry tried not to dwell on Laine, and she was gone for a whole lot more than a few measly days. “Just stay positive. Let’s put the time to good use. Sometimes it’s good to just be with friends.”

“Yeah, we’re still here, Draco,” Millie said. “Surely you’re glad to see us.”

“I am.” He took a deep breath and blew it out with a sputter. “I’m sorry, everyone. I just thought Ginny and I would get to spend a little time together.”

Millie gave him a disdainful look. “This is training for war, not a singles club. There’ll be plenty of opportunity for that once term starts up again, which might be the next time we see her.”

Draco tried some deflection. “You’d feel differently if Viktor was here.”

“You leave my relationship with Viktor out of this,” Millie scolded him. “I haven’t suggested we invite him because he’s busy at home and the continent. He’s got his own match to play against Dark elements in Bulgaria. Their Minister personally approached him and asked for his help. With his status as an international star and the wide range he can reach, he knows how he can best contribute.”

He gave up trying to banter with her. “I know. I just wish he could make it out this way a bit more often. I haven’t seen him in over a year. We should see about going to visit him.”

“I haven’t seen him in over a year either,” she pointed out, “but you don’t hear me complaining about it. I’ll see what I can arrange.”

“You must really like the guy to be okay with a long-distance relationship.”

“She does,” Arcen said smugly. “You should hear some of the stuff she writes in her letters.”

She rounded on him with a vengeance. “You little beast, Arse! How long have you been reading my private correspondence!”

He blanched. “Long enough to know more than I want to.”

“I’m going to  _ kill _ you,” she seethed.

Arcen smirked at her. “You’ll have to explain to Dad why you’ve killed his heir.”

“I’ll make it look like an accident,” she swore.

He laughed. “I’ve already left extensive documentation about how you’ve tried to take my life many times in the past. You’ll be the first one they look at, I promise you.”

“You’re the only fifth year here. We should banish you.” She looked at the others. “What do you say?”

“What is this nonsense?” he demanded. “Term’s not in session. Forms don’t count.”

Millie turned to Harry and pulled on her most endearing expression. “Harry, when term starts, would you please exercise your prefect authority and give the Arse detention with Filch for a week?”

Harry was perfectly willing to do it, but he saw no reason to let him know that immediately. “That depends on the answer to one question. Why’d you do it, Arcen?”

Arcen squirmed. “I wanted to know what was going on so I could make sure he wasn’t taking advantage of her. He’s a big celebrity. I’m sure he’s got hundreds of girls throwing themselves at him. Not that you’re throwing yourself at him,” he added hastily, seeing Millie’s face darken. “I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

_ Wow, that was the absolute right answer.  _ “Sorry, Millie, I can’t punish him.”

She looked disappointed. “Okay, maybe I won’t kill him.”

The house elves had whipped up a sumptuous meal. It wasn’t quite a feast, though Harry ate more than he probably should have and still polished off dessert. His full belly made him sleepy, so Harry decided to spend the night. He didn’t want to risk Apparating without his full mental faculties. Sirius probably would have Side-Alonged him, but he wanted the chance to visit with his friends.

They stayed up talking for many hours. Draco brought out a few decks of cards so they could keep their hands busy. Theo ruled them all at Exploding Snap. They tried to keep the conversation light. When they couldn’t stay awake any longer, Draco led them all upstairs to the guest rooms. Harry took the one that he always used. Tracy was one door down, Millie two. The boys were across the hall. Theo was one down from Draco. Pansy’s room was far away from the others, the better to ensure her peace and quiet.

Harry dropped his clothes to the floor, struggled into his pyjamas, and crawled between the sheets. He touched the stone on the bedside table and turned out the lights. He gave a huge yawn, feeling his jaw crack. Outside he could hear an owl hooting. He closed his eyes and was asleep almost instantly.

Despite the ease with which he fell asleep, Harry's sleep was not peaceful at all that night. In his dreams, he was back in the Department of Mysteries in the Exile Room. The battle against the Death Eaters was faring poorly, and Laine was blasted by stray spellfire. She sailed across the room, Banished through the tattered veil that hung loosely in the stone archway. Sirius held him back as the world shattered into tiny pieces. He chased Bellatrix Lestrange back along the corridor to the spinning room, but when the door opened he was back in the Exile Room again. Over and over he watched Laine die.

His sanity rebelled against the dream, and he cried out in defiance. He came awake just enough to feel a hand smoothing back his messy hair, a soft voice whispering to him. The delicate fragrance of rose petals cleared the stink of his own sweat from his nostrils. He knew that touch, he thought groggily, before sinking down into darkness.

The next thing Harry knew it was morning. The sun was just coming up, and the dawn light was slowly illuminating the room. The second thing he noticed was that he was not alone in his bed. Warm arms circled him, and a head snuggled against his shoulder. Blonde hair that smelled like roses spilled across the pillow.

Though Harry knew he ought to be embarrassed that Tracy was in his bed, he couldn't summon the energy to care. He felt comforted by her familiar presence. He didn't know why she was there, but he was sublimely grateful that she was. He drifted back to sleep, feeling safe and secure.

When Harry woke again, Tracy was still there. She lifted her head as his breathing changed. There was no guile in her eyes, just a deep concern.

“Good morning,” she said quietly.

“Hi there. Fancy seeing you here.”  _ Why are you here? _

“I got up to get a drink of water and heard you thrashing around. I peeked in and saw you riding the night mare. I tried to wake you, but you were deep under. You seemed to respond to my voice, though. You calmed down a little bit, moreso when I smoothed your hair. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to hold you for a bit. You settled down, and I decided to stay. Whatever you were dreaming about, I chased it away.”

“Thank you.” He was silent for a long moment. “It was about Laine. We were back in the Department of Mysteries.”

Tracy squeezed him. Nothing else needed to be said. Harry didn’t feel the need to elaborate further. They stayed there together, cosy as could be, until the door banged open and Draco came sauntering in.

“Rise and shine, Harry! Time to-” He broke off, head cocked to one side. “Tracy, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Draco gave her a knowing look. “It doesn’t  _ look _ like nothing.”

“Looks can be deceiving. For instance, you look like a nice person, but you’re not.”

He laughed at that. “I’ll ask a different way. What are you doing in Harry’s bed?”

“We were just sleeping,” Tracy replied.

“Uh huh,” he said in a disbelieving tone.

“Notice how I’m wearing my pyjamas,” she said acidly. “Notice how Harry is wearing his.”

“You could have put those on five minutes ago for all I know.”

“Nothing happened, Draco,” Harry said quietly. “I just had a bad dream is all. Tracy helped me get through it.”

“Oh.” Draco had the decency to look abashed. “Well, sorry about the dream, but good on you for being the first to get a girl in bed.”

“Don’t be crass, Draco,” Tracy said. “It wasn’t like that at all. You know Harry has always had bad dreams.”

Draco smirked. “Hey, if I knew we were allowed to do that, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

She smirked right back at him. “You’d be in Harry’s bed?”

“Ack! No, I meant I’d have had a girl in my bed.”

“Oh?” she said archly. “Which girl would that be?”

Draco stared at her for a moment. “I’m just going to stop talking now.”

“Good idea.”

“Breakfast will be served in the dining room,” he informed them. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Close the door, Draco,” Tracy said firmly, “on your way out.”

Harry felt entirely embarrassed. Draco was sure to tell everyone about finding them.

“We’re doomed,” he said morosely.

“I don’t care what Draco says,” Tracy declared boldly. “I never have. Harry, I’m here for you however I can be, because that’s what friends do. We said we wanted to stay friends, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

She squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Sometimes you’re allowed to break down. You’ve been through hell, and I want to help you. Let me be the strong one now. Lean on me, and I’ll support you.”

Harry tried not to let the tears flood his eyes. “I miss her, Tracy. It’s like this big gaping wound in my chest, and every time I touch the edges of it, I go spiraling down into darkness.”

“I know you loved her,” Tracy said matter-of-factly. “There’s a very old saying: Tis better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. It’s so true. Laine brought out some wonderful things from inside you. Don’t lose that just because you’ve lost her.”

She hugged him then, held him close. Harry closed his eyes and took comfort in the embrace.

At the breakfast table, Lucius and Narcissa were the only adults present. Tonks had gone to work, Remus had gone to make a report to Dumbledore, and Sirius was up to no good back at home.

Conversation was light, and aside from a few sly glances from Draco, nobody seemed to have any idea that Harry and Tracy had spent the night together. Harry didn’t say much to anyone. He was trying to work out his very confused feelings.

A new voice came from the door. “Good morning, everyone.”

“Pansy!”

“How do you feel, Pansy?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I feel good. Picture of health,” she said. “Don’t worry about me, please. It’ll take more than a Splinching to keep me down.”

“That’s the spirit,” Harry said. “We’ll get back to work soon. I’ll send a message. The recognition word will be Acromantula.”

After everyone had eaten and been Side-Alonged back home, Harry, Draco, and Theo lounged in the ballroom.

“So?” Draco said.

“So what?” Harry said, hoping to put him off.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me drag it out of you. What happened?”

“What’s this now?” Theo said curiously.

“Nothing happened. I was as surprised as you were.”

“Surprised at what?” Theo demanded.

“Tracy spent the night with Harry.” Draco could have sounded smarmier, but it would have taken a lot of effort.

“Draco!” Harry yelled.

“Well she did, didn’t she?” Draco said defensively.

“Yeah, but not like that!”

Theo groaned. “Harry, why don’t you explain it to me?”

Harry took a deep breath. “I had a nightmare last night.”

“Voldemort?” Theo interjected.

“No, it was about Laine. We were all back in the Department of Mysteries. We were taking a real pounding from the Death Eaters, and I had to watch her die all over again. I went chasing after Bellatrix just like I did before, but when I went through the door from the rotating room, I wound up back in the Exile Room. I was back in a duel and had to watch it again. It just kept repeating.”

Draco turned slightly green.

Harry sighed. “Tracy heard me and came in to comfort me. I didn’t even know she was there until this morning.”

Theo mulled that over for a moment. “How do you feel about it? I mean, you and Tracy have a bit of history.”

“I was actually glad to see her,” Harry said quietly. “I couldn’t even be embarrassed, which I likely would have been had it been Pansy or Daphne. Tracy and I were really close once.”

“She didn’t try to kiss you or anything?”

“No, she just held me.”

“I bet you could have kissed her,” Theo said.

“Yeah, you really could have,” Draco added.

“I thought about it,” Harry admitted. “I was aching for Laine and I wondered for just a moment if I could pretend Tracy was her and kiss her and feel that feeling one more time. But that would have been wrong. I couldn’t use Tracy that way. Not after spending all of fourth year trying to convince her I didn’t want to be her boyfriend. That just wouldn’t be right.”

“I don’t see why you’re so afraid to try things with Tracy,” Theo said.

“So not the right time,” Draco admonished.

Theo snorted. “Laine is dead. She’s gone. Nothing can change that. You have to move forward with your life. If you try to hold on to things that aren’t there anymore, you’ll go mad. Trust me. If you want to snog or shag, find a girl who’s willing to do it and do it as often as you can, because tomorrow you could die.”

“That’s so cynical.”

“I’m a cynical fellow, Draco. You might have noticed.”

“I just made note of it, didn’t I?”

Theo turned back to Harry. “Mourn Laine as you see best, but don’t let her hold you back from the next relationship. What you and Tracy shared was pretty bloody intimate, even if it wasn’t sexual. Don’t fail to appreciate that you two are closer than ever. Don’t be stupid and push her away.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You sound like you’re their matchmaker. What do you know about her?”

“I know I’m the only one she talked to during fourth year,” Theo retorted. “Tracy is a really good person. I don’t know if she has it in her to cast the most vicious of the curses we’ll be learning. She’s a good girl, Harry.”

“If you like her so much, why don’t you date her?” Harry wanted to know.

“Believe me, I tried,” Theo replied candidly. “She’s never had eyes for anyone but you. Why do you think I asked Pansy to the Yule Ball?”

“To show up Draco.”

“Partly correct. I asked Tracy first, but she was already going with Terry Boot. I saw how she watched you all night. I knew there was never any chance. Then Pansy was seething over Draco and Parvati, so I couldn’t even enjoy myself with her. Thanks oh so much for that, Draco.”

“Hey, she wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Draco retorted.

“Pansy is also a nice girl,” Theo told Draco sternly. “You should let your father execute your betrothal.”

“Pansy is a nice girl,” Draco agreed, “but she’s not the one that I want.”

“And who is?” Harry said.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Draco admitted, “but I do know that it isn’t Pansy. Besides, I’m seeing Ginny.”

“What’s it like to snog a Gryffindor?” Harry was curious.

“She’s very enthusiastic.” Draco got a goofy grin on his face. “Half the time it’s her idea.”

“I still can’t believe you two are together,” Theo said.

Draco shrugged. “We had a lot to draw us together last year. We both lost our brother.”

“You sought comfort from each other,” Theo said, simplifying the issue. “It’s like how Harry sought comfort from Tracy. They weren’t ready for a relationship then, maybe because what they’re capable of being is so amazing. They owe it to themselves to give it another try.”

“Not yet,” Harry said. “Maybe not for awhile.”

 


	4. The Wandmaker

**** Spirits were high at Malfoy Manor. The eldest son was coming home today.

Elan had been captured by Death Eaters and held for several months. Nobody knew the torments he’d been put through, including him. He’d been Memory Charmed, and despite the best efforts of the Healers at St. Mungo’s, he couldn’t remember anything past his abduction. All they knew was that his body was extensively damaged. It had taken a month to put him back to rights.

In the end, it had fallen to Sirius to bring Elan home. Lucius could not go retrieve his son, because the discharge process would have taken long enough that the Death Eaters could find and attack him. He waited in the sitting room at Malfoy Manor, pacing back and forth restlessly. Narcissa had planned a small party to welcome Elan back. She’d been supervising the elves in the kitchen as they prepared a feast of all his favourite foods. 

The guest list was short; only family. Harry waited with Draco, while the parents tended to a few last things. 

At last Sirius called on the magic mirror. “Harry Potter!”

“Sirius Black!”

“We’re through with all the paperwork here. They gave me some grief since he’s not my son. After I pointed out that I am blood-related, though, everything went smoothly.”

“Give me just a few minutes. Bye!”

Harry gathered everyone together around the seal in the hall. They waited only moments before Sirius and Elan Apparated with a  _ pop! _

Though they were all glad to see him, they all held back as Narcissa embraced her firstborn. She sobbed freely, and she wiped at her tears with the monogrammed silk she had clutched in one hand.

After several moments, Lucius stepped forward to embrace both wife and son. He reached out and pulled Draco into the embrace as well, and the family was whole once more. Lucius had silent tears running down his face. He said nothing, was incapable of speech, probably. For the past few months, they had all suffered the agony of uncertainty. Not knowing Elan’s fate had made their imaginations run wild. Now he was home and safe, mostly whole and hearty. The stress was relieved, and the pressure vented itself as hot salt water.

Draco was shaking, finally able to let out all the fears he’d carried around since Easter. Draco idolized Elan, and the idea of losing his brother had driven him right up to the edge of sanity. Harry had watched his best mate struggle to hold a veneer of normalcy over his emotions. He’d never felt so helpless.

The Malfoys embraced until Draco let go. Then Lucius let go. Narcissa continued to hold Elan.

“You’re going to smother him, Mother,” Draco said. “He needs to breathe.”

“Don’t be impertinent, Draco,” Lucius said, his voice gentle.

When his mother finally released him, Elan fixed his hair and looked up at everyone else.

“It’s good to be home. Thank you all for the cards and flowers. The Healers say I should take it easy for the next few weeks. I’m to do a bit of light weight-lifting after that. I’ve got a very specific diet they want me to follow.”

“Your room is all ready for you,” Narcissa said. “I’ve assigned Dobby to see to your every need. I’ll just go check it over. Is there anything you need or want?”

“I would like some water, please,” Elan requested. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to just sit with everyone.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll send Dobby at once.” She left the room.

Elan looked around at everyone. “I’ve missed you all.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t remember anything,” Sirius said.

“I can’t,” Elan replied with a shrug. “That’s just the sort of thing people say when they come back from the sort of place I’ve been.”

“So how was it in Saint Mungo’s?” Draco said. “Lots of pretty Healers and nurses take care of you?”

“Many Healers,” Elan confirmed. “Only about a third of them were women, and of that third, only a few were pretty. The nurses were more female and more pretty, but I couldn’t seem to find the energy to flirt with them. It’s also very difficult to act suave when you might have to take off your clothes for them at any moment. Most of the time I just wanted to see Bridget. She’s been sending me several letters a day, but it’s just not the same.”

Draco mimed gagging. “That’s sappy.”

“It’s the truth,” Elan said simply. “I hope you like her, Draco, because she’s going to be your sister-in-law.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not waiting any longer.” Elan shook his head. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all that I’ve been through, it’s that you can’t plan for everything. You have to seize what you can while you can, because tomorrow it may not be there. Father, may I use your grandmother’s engagement ring?”

“Which one?” Lucius said dryly. “The old battle axe had three.”

“Didn’t she marry great-grandfather right out of school?”

“She did, but she got proposed to three times. She broke up with the other two for cause, so she kept the rings.”

Elan laughed. “I’d like the one that mattered, if you please.”

“Certainly. I’ll have it cleaned and brought down.” Lucius snapped his fingers and called Nibby the house elf to issue the orders.

“Done, then,” Elan said with satisfaction. “Please have her come around as soon as she can. Don’t tell Mother quite yet, please. I want to make sure Bridget says yes first.”

Lucius was non-committal. “We’ll see about that. I want to consult your aunt before we start talking about visitors.”

“Aunt Andromeda took good care of me,” Elan said after a moment’s reflection, “but it was particularly awkward to have to see Jamie all the time. She’s Aunt Andromeda’s apprentice, so every time they ran a test, Jamie was right there. She saw me naked far more often than I’m comfortable with.”

“Well, she finally got her dream come true then,” Draco muttered.

Narcissa would now not only have Tonks’ wedding to interfere with but also her own son’s to plan. 

Elan, it turned out, thought well of Tonks. “I’m glad to do Tonks the favour of getting Mother off her back. I got to know her a bit better while I was being treated. She’s got a wicked sense of humour. The other guards usually stayed outside the door, but she’d always come in and talk with me. She kept me up to date on gossip. She even snuck me food a few times. Saint Mungo’s might be a leader in healthcare, but they’re dead last in terms of quality food.”

“What will you do once you recover?” Harry said.

“I’m joining Dumbledore’s Order,” Elan said in a flat tone. “The Death Eaters made me a target in this war. I’m not about to let them get away with that.”

Harry cleared his throat. “About that. You’re not the only one who wants to take the fight to Voldemort. I’m forming an organization to help us prepare. We could use your help.”

Elan looked intrigued. “What can I do?”

“You’re older than us; stronger in magic,” Harry said, figuring a little flattery couldn’t hurt. “We need to train against wizards who are better than us if we’re going to improve our own skills. Dummies can only do so much.”

Elan didn’t hesitate. “Sure. Whatever I can do. I’ll need to rebuild my skills anyway.”

He had seemed alert enough at the start, but by the end of dinner, Elan was clearly ready for his bed. Lucius tenderly picked up his eldest son and carried him up to his room. The Malfoys retired soon after. Draco showed Harry and Sirius out.

That evening, a somewhat pompous-looking owl dropped off a letter for Harry. He didn’t recognize the bird, so he cast all kinds of Detection Charms on the parchment. It seemed harmless enough, but Harry still called Sirius into the room before he risked opening it.

“It’s from Percy,” Harry exclaimed.

 

Dear Harry,

I’ve been allowed a quill and ink at last. I knew the first thing I must do was thank you for coming after me. Ginny’s wild enough to have come after me anyway, but without you, she wouldn’t have come back. I know Laine didn’t. I’m so sorry. Please let me know if I can do anything.

Ginny told me all about the vision she had that night. Thank you for believing in her. I never thought my baby sister would turn out to be a Seer. She doesn’t even take Divination, and now that Undersecretary Umbridge has taken the course out of the curriculum she won’t get a chance to. Did you know that even though she’s no longer teaching that Madam Trelawney still resides in the castle? I suggested to Ginny that she should take a private study when school term begins. She didn’t really like it. She’s heard some really strange things about Trelawney. Do you think you could say a word to her? She respects your opinion. If she’s got a talent, she should do everything she can to develop it, don’t you agree?

They’re finally releasing me. I can’t wait until I can get back to work. There’s so much to do. I’ve had updates from my staff, and I’ve run several meetings from my room here at St. Mungo’s, but I need to speak directly to my counterparts in other countries. I’m sure I can convince the Americans to send more than just food and medical supplies.

I’ll be moving back home with my family until I’m fully recovered. I actually didn’t have much to say about it. My mother is a very determined woman. 

Sincerely,

Percy Weasley

 

“He’s coming home,” Harry shared with Sirius. “Now if only Daphne would be released.”

“You should invite Percy to join,” Sirius said. “He’s very important at the Ministry, and I’m sure he wants to fight back.”

That made a certain amount of sense. “Does he need to work on his spell-casting?”

“Don’t we all?” Sirius said rhetorically. “He got a dozen OWLs and NEWTs, and we can always use more smart people.”

“I didn’t realize you and he were so close.”

Sirius kicked at a ripple in the rug. “He wanted to talk about Peter. Scabbers, I guess. Percy kept him as a pet for ten years.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. “I never knew that.”

“It wasn’t until his fifth year, your first, that he received Hermes from his parents and gave Scabbers to Ron.”

_ Poor Percy.  _ “It must have messed with his head pretty hard when he found out Scabbers was a man.”

“A snivelling little wretch of a man,” Sirius sneered, “but yes. How would you feel if you discovered that a creepy man had watched you go to bed every night for ten years? All of your private moments violated; all weaknesses exposed.”

“I’d probably be a basket case,” Harry said glumly. “You’re right, though. Percy will be a great resource for us.”

Harry sent his letter off to Ginny, using the keyword for a new meeting. She replied back saying that she and her brother would be ready. Harry knew she was supposed to be grounded, but if she was willing to risk her mother’s wrath, who was he to say no?

The next morning, Harry and Lucius went to the Burrow to retrieve Ginny and Percy. They Apparated to the edge of town and began to walk down the lane. With the Burrow being under a Fidelius, they would need to be found by the two Weasleys.

“Hey there,” said a voice behind them.

Harry reacted instantly, drawing his wand and diving for cover. Lucius had Disapparated a few metres back up the lane to get behind their ambushers.

Ginny was sitting on a rock they’d just passed. Her mischievous smile betrayed her glee at having provoked a reaction.

“I see your reflexes are as sharp as ever,” she said lightly.

Harry was not particularly amused. “Don’t you know by now not to sneak up on me? I almost hexed you.”

“I’m very glad you didn’t.” She hopped off the rock.

“Ready to go?”

“Yup. Percy’s here too.” She turned and waved but not to anyone Harry could see. Then the youngest Director in the Ministry’s history appeared from thin air.

“Hello, Harry. Mister Malfoy, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Percy. I’m glad to see you so eager to return to the fight.”

“My involvement in Dumbledore’s Order is an extension of my work within the Ministry,” Percy declared, sounding a bit like the pompous Ministry official he was. “I work with his group of volunteers because the Ministry is not the only way to fight the darkness. I’ll work with your group as well.”

Harry’s relief was almost palpable. “I’m glad to hear that, Percy. We need you.”

Lucius took a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket and handed it to Percy. Percy read it and handed it back.

“Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for sneaking out again?” Harry said to Ginny. ”Your mother’s opinion probably still echoes in the rafters of Malfoy Manor.”

Ginny shook her head, sending her tumbled hair whipping around. “She calmed down a fair bit after Percy talked some sense into her. She’s not happy with it, but she’ll let me out if I have an escort.”

Harry offered his arm to Ginny. She took it. Harry focused on the destination, the great seal in the front hall at Malfoy Manor. Lucius and Percy were a step behind.

“When you Apparate here, it must always be on this spot,” Lucius said. “Elsewise you will not have a pleasant time dealing with the countermeasures.”

“I’ll remember,” Percy promised. He turned to his left. “Hello, cousin. Long time no see.”

Elan and Percy embraced. The two young men had gone from openly antagonistic to the strongest of friends in only a few short years. Percy had saved Draco’s life; Elan had asked his friends to keep an eye on Percy and they had rescued him from imminent danger in Gryffindor.

“We’re going to get even with them that did this to us,” Percy swore. “They caught us by surprise once. It’ll never happen again.”

“It’ll be good to work with you,” Elan said.

“I need people I can trust in my office. Would you lower yourself to doing actual work and take a position at the Ministry?”

Elan mulled it over. “I suppose I could. What would you want me to do?”

“Let’s talk about that.” Percy looked up at Lucius. “Actually, we should all talk.”

“Narcissa is upstairs,” Lucius informed them. “Let me get her.”

“Ginny, can you stay out of trouble for a few hours?” Percy inquired.

She gave him a scornful look. “No.”

“I’ll keep her company,” Draco said. “Ginny, may I offer you the tour?”

“That sounds like fun,” she declared. “Harry, are you coming?”

“No, I’m going to head home,” he declined. “I’ve got some things to talk about with Sirius.”

“Okay. See you later.”

Leaving Percy and Elan to discuss the war with Lucius and Narcissa, leaving Draco and Ginny to their snogging, Harry returned to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

He found Sirius in the sitting room.

“We should take that trip to Diagon Alley and talk with Ollivander. I know the school lists haven’t arrived yet, but this is important.”

Sirius nodded. “Let’s go now. It’s not planned, so they can’t be ready for us.”

“The security of the unexpected?”

“You bet.”

They took the motorbike to the Leaky Cauldron. They passed through the crowded taproom to the brick wall behind the back door. With a tap of the wand, the wall transformed into an archway, revealing the magical marketplace.

Ollivander’s was all the way on the other end of the alley. Fortunately the streets were reasonably empty, many people having paused in their commerce to observe the lunch hour. 

They were just passing in front of Gambol and Japes Joke Shop when they encountered Neville Longbottom. The Gryffindor prefect walked tall and confidently, and he gave an easy grin when he spotted them.

“Hello, Potter.”

“Hello, Longbottom. Fancy seeing you here. This is my godfather, Sirius Black.”

Neville offered his hand. “Hello, Mister Black.”

“Hello, Mister Longbottom.” Sirius shook hands.

Neville made a face. “You sound like a professor.”

“There’s no need to be insulting,” Sirius said with a grin.

Harry asked, “Where’s your gran?”

“Safe at home. I went and did it.” He had a grin a mile wide.

Harry instantly knew what he was talking about. “Yeah? Good on you. Let’s see it then.”

Neville proudly held out his new wand. Harry did not take it, but he peered closely at it.

”That’s nice,” he said with admiration. “What’s the wood?”

“Cherry and unicorn hair. I can’t wait to get home and try it out.”

“I think you’ll be much happier with it.”

“I can already tell,” Neville confirmed. “This one really likes me. Duelling Club should be a lot better now. I’m going to surprise everyone.”

“That you will.” “Harry grinned. Got anyone you want me to have you face off with at the first meeting?”

Neville thought about it. “I’d kinda like to go against Ron. I’m very tired of listening to him go on about how evil all you Slytherins are. I’m tired of his bluster about hexing the boy who lays a hand on his sister. It was tiresome but tolerable until Ginny and Draco started going out. Then one led directly to the other and he’d rant on and on. I tried to tell him to calm down, but he would either ignore me or yell at me like a mandrake. I don’t need friends like that. I ignored him for most of the rest of the year, but on the train ride home, he accused me of facilitating it all.”  Neville shook his head in disgusted incredulity. “As if I’d ever help Ginny date Draco. I’d help her date me, but never him.”

“Oh? You fancy Ginny?” Harry seldom had any gossip for Pansy.

“What’s not to fancy?” Neville retorted, unashamed

“A fair point. I’m surprised you’d be willing to brave her brothers.”

“Actually,” Neville countered, “I got on fairly well with Percy while he was still at school. The twins never bothered me too much. They gave me some of their candies once. That was an adventure. I think there are pictures.”

Harry knew well what the twins’ candies could do. He changed the subject. “How’s your gran?”

“Gran’s well. Thank you for asking. She obviously doesn’t know I’m here. She thinks I’m tending the greenhouse right now. I have to get back before she misses me.”

“What’s your cover story in case you get caught?”

“Hadn’t really worked one out,” Neville admitted. “I suppose I could tell her that I needed a few things for the garden. She’ll probably get mad at me for leaving without telling her no matter what my excuse is.”

“It’s not that she’s angry,” Harry said sagely, “just that she’s worried about you.”

“I think I’m a big disappointment to her,” Neville said with a sigh. “She’s always comparing me to my dad. He’s like this picture of perfection that I can never quite live up to.”

Harry could commiserate. “I know what you mean. Everyone always tells me that I look exactly like my father. It’s like they expect me to be a miniature version of him or something. You’re not your father, any more than I’m mine, but I bet your dad wasn’t the whiz at Herbology that you are.”

“No, just everything else.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating. Or she is. Nobody is good at everything.”

“Not even Professor Snape?” Neville said hopefully.

Harry grinned. “No, not even him.”

There was a pause, and Sirius spoke up. “I know your parents, Neville. They’re good people.”

The other boy stiffened a bit, but he said, “Thank you, Mister Black.”

At that moment a group of hooded wizards hurried up the street and into Ollivander’s shop. Harry frowned. There were too many of them moving too quickly to not be up to something. He exchanged glances with Sirius.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Harry said.

Just then they heard a crash and the sounds of a struggle coming from the wand maker’s shop.

“No,” Harry breathed. “Not now.” He drew his wand. “We have to help him. I need him! We can’t let them get away with him.”

“I’ll help!” Neville said immediately. “What’s the plan?”

Sirius laughed. “Plan? They’re not expecting us to attack them. The plan is to blitz them.”

“Death Eaters!” Harry screamed as loudly as he could.

Without waiting for a response from the masked wizards, they launched a volley of spells and missiles. Two fell on the cobblestones and didn’t move. The others hauled the old man down the street toward the brick wall that marked the end of Diagon Alley.

Harry advanced on their position, never sacrificing his cover. He wished he could transform into Chitter, but there were far too many people around. He exchanged spells with two more Death Eaters.

A thunderous detonation blew out the entire front of Ollivander’s shop. The old man struggled against his bonds. “My shop!” he cried.

“Shut up!” the leader of the group said. “Activate the portkey!”

“Cover me!” Harry shouted to Neville. The round-faced boy obliged, shooting a number of nasty hexes. His spellwork was crisper than it had ever been.

Harry broke cover and charged forward, the overriding thought on his mind that the Death Eaters not manage to escape with Ollivander.

Despite Neville’s coverfire, one of the Death Eaters was able to return a curse. Harry tried to dodge the blue beam of light, but he simply didn’t have enough time to fully react.

Pain erupted in his left shoulder. His arm dangled uselessly. He collapsed behind a set of stone stairs and tried to focus. Drawing on his Occlumency techniques, he shunted the pain to the side. He could not let himself be distracted. He quickly bound the arm across his chest to immobilize it, thankful that he hadn’t injured his wand arm. He popped up and rained some more hexes down on the Death Eaters.

“That’s it! Let’s go!” one of them shouted.

“No!” Harry ran forward, but the group vanished just as he reached them. “Damn! By Merlin’s blistering fireballs!”

“Harry, are you okay?” Sirius was there.

“I caught one, but I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine. Just look at you.”

“They got away!” He felt like swearing but didn’t have the energy.

Sirius didn’t care. “I can see that. What were you thinking, running forward like that? Trying to go with them? That’d be fun to explain to people.”

“Voldemort must have had the same idea we did,” Harry rued. “Who better to answer questions about how the wands interact than the man who crafted them?”

The Aurors and Healers arrived at that moment, so any further discussion would have to wait. Harry recognized Tonks, Shacklebolt, and several others. One of those others came to debrief him.

“Hello, Auror Baldi.”

The man who had so reminded Harry of a Viking when he guest-lectured at Hogwarts was very grim.

“Hello, Mister Potter. Care to tell me what happened here today?”

Harry gestured towards the ruined shop. “Madness, that’s what.” He pressed his fingers to his temples and narrowed his eyes in concentration. He told his story, trying to get the details while they were fresh in his mind. .

When he was done, Auror Baldi moved on to question Sirius and then Neville while a Healer saw to Harry’s shoulder. The damage wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared, and he was patched up with a few waves of the wand. He was given a dose of general purpose pain-relief potion as well, and his arm felt as good as new.

“Don’t put any strain on that arm for at least a day, otherwise the tissue will unravel. Magic is holding it in place until it heals, which it will do at an accelerated pace, but it’s not instantaneous.”

The Healer took a quick look over Sirius and Neville, though they were uninjured. At last they were free to go.

“Harry!” came a woman’s voice. He turned to look. There was no mistaking her.

“Rita! What are you doing here?”

The attractive blonde reporter pecked him briefly on the cheek. “My job. What about you?”

Harry was calming down enough to feel slightly embarrassed. “Wrong place, wrong time. We just got released by the Aurors and Healers.”

“May I ask you a few questions?” she asked, suddenly all business.

Harry glanced up at Sirius, who nodded.

“Sure.”

She tapped the tip of her quill twice on her notepad. “Tell me what happened in your own words.”

It felt strange to describe events that had happened only minutes ago. “I was just visiting Diagon Alley with my godfather. We had a few errands to run. Neville and I were chatting a bit when this group of about six people rushed by us. Something felt off about them, but before we could investigate or alert the Aurors they started flinging spells around.”

“Where were they?”

“They’d gone into Ollivander’s. It was a kidnapping. I saw them haul him out of the shop and drag him down the street. They were trying to setup their portkey when we stepped in.”

“‘We’?” she said, seeking clarification.

“Myself, Sirius, and Neville here.” Harry gestured to each in turn.

Rita gave Neville a hard once-over, jotting down a few adjectives. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Neville Longbottom.”

“Longbottom as in Frank and Alice Longbottom?”

“The same,” Neville said with pride.

Rita wrote some more. “What happened then?”

“We charged right in. Nobody except the Aurors ever fights back against them, so they weren’t expecting us. We took down two of them, injured a few more. We tried to stop them, but they got away with Mister Ollivander.”

“How heroic of you all!” Rita gushed, scribbling furiously. 

“It wasn’t enough,” Harry said bitterly.

“It was more than most would have done. At least you managed to capture two of the Death Eaters.”

“At least there’s that,” Harry agreed, “but they definitely won this round.”

“The Aurors will find him,” Rita said confidently.

“I hope so.”

“What else can you tell me?”

Harry wished there was more to tell. “Not much. The Aurors showed up after the Death Eaters got away. We told them everything that had happened, got checked out by the Healers, and now we’re headed home.”

“Healers?”

“I was slightly wounded,” Harry said, feeling embarrassed again.

Rita was concerned. “Are you okay? Is it severe?”

“Barely a scratch,” he said, brushing it off.

“You’re too modest, Harry,” Neville said. “He got it in the shoulder. He’s lucky it wasn’t a more serious curse. It could have had his arm off.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said firmly. “The Healers wouldn’t have released me if I wasn’t.”

“This time,” Neville said skeptically.

Rita turned to Neville. “Mister Longbottom, do you have anything to add?”

He thought for a moment. “Nope. Captain Potter summed things up nicely.”

“Mister Black?”

Sirius shook his head. “Nothing to add.”

“Still single?” she said hopefully.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “No comment.”

“Thank you, gentlemen. You’ve been most helpful. Excuse me. I must go interview the Aurors.”

As Rita bustled off, Harry said to Neville, “That new wand is already making a difference. You did well.”

“Thanks,” Neville said, flushing a bit at the praise. “You’re pretty on point yourself.”

“I’ve been training. We’ve been working on traditional and unconventional ways to engage the enemy. Your name has actually come up a lot. How many ways do you think you could fight with plants?”

Longbottom considered that. “Thirty-six. Wait, no. Thirty-seven.”

Harry exhaled sharply. “Wow. That’s way more than I had guessed at. I knew we needed you.”

“You need me?” Neville plainly couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yeah. I know why you joined the Duelling Club. If you want to get strong enough to take out Bellatrix, you should train with us. The Death Eaters beat us in the Ministry. She’s deadly.”

At the mention of Bellatrix’s name, Neville’s eyes went flat. “I’m in.”

“That was quick,” Harry observed.

“I’ll swear allegiance to the ghost of Salazar Slytherin himself if it means I get a chance to kill her,” Neville said fervently.

Harry tried not to laugh. “I don’t think that will quite be necessary.”

“All the better. When’s the next meeting?”

“I’ll send you an owl.” Harry realized this was the first non-Slytherin student to be invited to the Order. “We’ll have to teach you all the code phrases.”

Neville faked being impressed. “Ooh, I get to learn some Slytherin secrets?”

“Apparently. Try to contain your enthusiasm. You’ll know the owl comes from me because I’ll talk about Snape’s funny hat.”

Neville grinned. “He still hasn’t gotten over that one, you know.”

“Did you really think he would?”

“No, but I can hope.”

After saying farewell to Neville, Sirius and Harry retrieved the motorbike and headed back home. Harry returned to his attempts to cast a non-verbal Disarming Charm. He hadn’t had any success yet, and he was trying to keep his frustration under control. It was an easy bit of magic, one of the first he’d ever learned. He felt like a firstie again, doing the wand motion perfectly without any flashy result. Now he was also worried about the wandmaker and what the Death Eaters were up to.

“How are we going to figure out what happened if we can’t talk to Ollivander?” he asked Sirius, after a few minutes.

“If we went to the continent, we could go see Gregorovitch." Sirius shot off a spell. "Shall we have ourselves a holiday?”

“If we have to.” He concentrated on disarming the Dummy and failed to get the spell off. “Where will new students get wands now?”

“Ollivander wasn’t the only wandmaker in Britain, just the best. I suppose we could go talk to Jimmy Kiddell.”

Harry frowned. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“There’s no reason you should have," Sirius replied. "He makes perfectly serviceable wands, uses the usual materials, and he’s not as expensive as Ollivander.”

“So what makes him not as good?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Power, mostly. You can’t beat Ollivander for power or reliability. His family has been in the wand business for longer than all the rest put together. Wands made by lesser craftsmen have been known to fail during the life of the wizard. An Ollivander wand will last your whole life, and many are known to continue working perfectly through the life of another wizard.”

“If it’s compatible. Doesn’t Ollivander always say that the wand chooses the wizard?”

“It does. You’ll never get such good results with another wizard’s wand unless you have won the wand’s allegiance. You couldn’t pick up my wand and be as good with it as you are with your own, but if we duelled a serious duel, not just for practice or training, and you took my wand from me, it would work perfectly for you. It wouldn’t fight you. It might not be as powerful as your own wand, but you wouldn’t have any problems using it. Do you remember the night we captured Peter?”

Harry scowled as he failed to hit the dummy again. “How could I forget?”

“I took Ron Weasley’s wand. I wrested yours away during our little struggle. Remus came in and took both away from me, then after he realized I was innocent, he gave Weasley’s wand back to me. Snape came in right before we executed Peter, and he took both wands.”

“Yes, while you and Remus were sorting things out, I picked up my wand where it had fallen.”

“You took it back, but I wasn’t trying to actually take it away from you. I just didn’t want you to burn my face off before I could explain things. I did want to take Weasley’s away so I could use it, Remus did want to take it away from me, and Snape did want to take it away from Remus, so when Weasley got it back, it wasn’t properly his wand anymore.”

Harry laughed. “That might be why he was pants during fourth year. Then again, I don’t think it was ever really his wand in the first place. I think Ginny told me once that he has their brother Charlie’s old wand.”

“If Charlie got a new wand for himself once he could afford it, it’s entirely possible it wasn’t Charlie’s wand originally either. I’m not surprised that Ron isn’t a better magician.”

Harry frowned. This was all very complicated. “So does that mean that Remus’ wand now belongs to Professor Snape?”

“It very likely did,” Sirius broke into a grin, “at least until Remus picked Snape’s pocket.”

Harry laughed again. “I had wondered how he got it back. He used it to wrap up Weasley’s busted leg.”

“Yes.”

“Now I’m curious,” Harry confessed, giving up all pretense of casting the Disarming spell. “Wands are expensive, and the Weasleys don’t have much money. How can they afford wands for everyone?”

“Some wands are inherited. Molly Weasley had two brothers.”

“Gideon and Fabian. Ginny told me about them.”

“They died in the last war. Their wands were recovered and held onto.”

Harry wracked his brain, trying to remember if Ginny had ever talked about her wand. He resolved to ask her at the next meeting.

“Kiddell’s not as expensive, so they probably patronized his shop,” Sirius added. 

“Makes sense.”

At that point, Remus stuck his head into the duelling room. “How goes the non-verbal magic?”

“Badly,” Harry told him. 

Remus chuckled sympathetically. “You’ll get it soon enough, and then you’ll be casting everything without words.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Would you care to take a break from it?”

“Love to. What are we doing? I’ll take anything.”

“In that case, I’m going to take care of a few things,” Sirius said. “Good luck, Harry.”

“Thanks, Sirius.” He was glad for Sirius' patience in practicing with him, even though he had been unable to cast a single spell. He was also looking forward to working with Remus, who had worked one-on-one with him before. 

Remus began to use his teaching voice. “As you know, a Patronus is able to fend off dementors and lethifolds. What you don’t know is that they can also be used to transmit verbal messages in the caster’s own voice.”

Harry was impressed. “That’s a neat trick. Who figured that out?”

Remus smiled bemusedly. “Dumbledore.”

Harry shook his head in amazement. He had personal issues with Dumbledore, but he’d never been anything less than respectful of the old man’s magical prowess. It seemed like he could do anything.

“He taught the members of the Order how to do it as a safeguard against Dark influence," Remus explained. "Given that you’re now going to be a member of the Order, I think you should learn.”

“Sure," Harry said eagerly. “Any chance we might be able to use it to communicate with my friends?”

“It’s possible.”

“What do I do?” Harry was glad to have his wand back in hand now. 

“First cast the Patronus. When it’s standing in front of you, speak to it as though it were the person the message is for. Then flick your wand, and it will seek out the recipient. Once found, the message will be spoken in your voice.”

“So just anyone could overhear it.”

Remus nodded and spread his hands wide. “Unfortunately, it is not a secure method.”

“That could be a problem,” Harry noted.

“We use it only in emergencies.”

Harry was already quite accomplished at casting the Patronus, so they were able to skip directly to the part where they made it pass messages.

“I’m going to head down to the library,” Remus said. “Why don’t you head upstairs and practice?”

“Sounds good. That way when I’m knackered, I’ll be right near my bed.”

Remus smiled. “Exactly.”

Harry flashed into his mongoose form and scampered up the stairs. He scurried into his room and changed back.

He thought about the night in the Shrieking Shack when Sirius had offered him a home, an escape from the awful Muggles who lived at Number Four, Privet Drive. After all the hate he’d been immersed in for those twelve long years, Sirius’ offer had meant freedom at last. Harry tapped the wellspring of love that his godfather represented.

“ _ Expecto patronum! _ ”

The great silver stag erupted from his wand and stood there expectantly.

“Hello, Moony. Wanna go for a little walk in the moonlight?”

The stag nodded and charged through the door. A few moments later, Moony’s wolf came padding in.

“Har har, Chitter,” the wolf said in Moony’s voice. It was no audible difference. It was as though he’d come into Harry’s bedroom. “Why don’t you chase your own tail?”

Harry cast another stag.

“I tried that once. I caught it. Didn’t much see the point after that.”

“Tail tastes delicious with a little salt. You should try it.”

“I’ll grab the salt cellar and have yours during the next moon.”

“If you bite my tail, I will swat you, Chitter.”

“If you can catch me. Remember how quick I am.”

“Quick but on short legs. Maybe we should call you Shorty instead of Chitter.”

“Maybe I should call you Cheesy. Isn’t the moon made of cheese?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”

“You named me Chitter. No changing your mind, Moony.”

They kept up the banter until Harry’s Patronus failed to materialize. It was a very advanced spell, and even though there were no dementors around to drain its (and thus Harry’s) energy, one could not cast it indefinitely.

From the doorway came applause. Sirius and Remus stood there with beaming faces.

“Very well done, Harry,” Sirius said.

He always got a warm feeling when he heard praise from his godfather. “Thanks. I think it helped that I already have a perfect Patronus.”

“Which many fully-qualified wizards have difficulty with, I might add,” Remus said.

Harry continued. ”The Patronus could theoretically be used to send messages, but they’re not secure. A message couldn’t be faked, but it could definitely be heard by more than just the intended recipient. What about these magic mirrors? Can we get more of them?”

Sirius shook his head. “Unfortunately they only exist in pairs. We’d have to get a dozen or more sets, keep them all organized. It seems like a tremendous effort for not that much gain.”

“We’ve got to figure out a better method of communicating with everyone.”

“Have you ever heard of the Protean Charm?” Remus said.

Harry thought hard for a moment. “No. Should I have?”

“It’s a NEWT-level charm that might serve us well,” Remus explained. “What it does is link several objects together through a common purpose. There’s a lot of Arithmancy involved. It invokes the Law of Symmetry. If we cast the charm on some pieces of parchment, any change to one will also change the others.”

Harry nodded. “So if we write down a day and time for a meeting, everyone will get the message.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you know this charm?”

Remus eyes twinkled merrily like Dumbledore’s often did. “I do.”

“Let me get some parchment.” Harry retrieved a fresh sheaf from his desk and readied an inkwell and quill.

“Let’s start with the charm to connect them all.” Remus waved his wand in a strange pattern and muttered, “ _ Proteus! _ ”

The parchment began to glow orange.

“There. That should do it. Give it a try.”

Harry took two pieces of the enchanted parchment. He wrote his name on one with a flourish. His bold quill strokes appeared on the other. A quick glance through the stack of parchment revealed that they likewise bore his signature.

“This is incredible,” he exclaimed.

Remus cautioned, “The danger with something like this is that anyone can modify any of the parchments. You’ll have to work out a series of codewords so that people know the message is genuine.”

“We’ve already got that, in a way.”

“Smart thinking.”

“I’ll give these out to everyone at the next meeting.”

“Are you going to go Side-Along everyone again?” Remus said.

Harry was looking forward to it. “Yes. It’ll help me get better. I know I’m already able to Apparate more quickly.”

“That’s good. When’s the meeting?”

“In a few days.”

* * *

**War Waged With Wandmaker**

by Rita Skeeter

Britain suffered a great loss in the war yesterday. Garrick Ollivander, purveyor of fine wands to several generations of magical Britons, was abducted out of his shop by followers of the Dark wizard Tom Riddle (who styles himself Lord Voldemort) when they staged a brazen attack on Diagon Alley yesterday afternoon, kidnapping Ollivander and destroying his shop. Indeed, the shop is mostly in ruins now. The motive for the attack is unknown.

Eyewitnesses report that there was a tremendous struggle.

Two Hogwarts prefects happened to be nearby and tried to save the famous wandmaker. Harry Potter, rising sixth year of Slytherin house and Captain of the Hogwarts Duelling Club, along with his godfather, Sirius Black, and Neville Longbottom, rising sixth year of Gryffindor house, attacked the Death Eaters. Though outnumbered, the element of surprise was on their side. They managed to capture two Death Eaters but were ultimately unsuccessful in preventing the remainder from using a portkey to escape.

Aurors responded almost instantly but were too late to even engage the Death Eaters. A spokesman for the Auror Office had no comment when asked why they were unable to provide security for the general public.

Mr. Ollivander's shop was completely destroyed. While he does have many kin in the trade, the family estimates that it will be some time before they are able to reopen. Most of the vast stock of wands was ruined. As Hogwarts letters have not yet been sent out, new students are advised to patronize the establishment of Jimmy Kiddell in Diagon Alley.

* * *

"So I'm going to invite Longbottom," Harry said to Draco as they lifted weights. Theo had already reached his limit and headed for the shower.

"You're what?" Draco said, plainly surprised.

"Neville Longbottom. Neville. He's a good lad. He's a prefect. The more prefects we have in the Order the better, no doubt."

"I thought it might be just Slytherins."

Harry smirked. "Finally accepted Ginny as a Slytherin, have you?"

Draco considered it for a moment. "Yes, I suppose I have. She's not a perfect fit, but I suppose nobody is. None of us can be exactly like Mister Slytherin, can we?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Are you really that impressed with Longbottom?" Draco asked curiously.

Harry nodded. "He's improved a lot this year, and I have a suspicion that he'll be much more improved when we see him next. At least he'd better."

Draco’s brow furrowed. "What?"

"Nothing. Just a hunch.”

“I suppose it does make sense,” Draco said after a moment’s thought. “He's got a blood feud against the Lestranges, or he should."

Harry shuddered. "He does. His gran supposedly tried to hex them in the courtroom when they were given life sentences instead of the Dementor's Kiss."

"From the way Neville talks about her, I gather she's rather formidable. That sounds like something she'd do," Draco opined. "Makes you wonder where he's been hiding his fighting spirit."

"You haven't been paying close enough attention to him in duelling club," Harry chided.

"I was too busy trying not to get my arse shot off, thank you very much,” Draco said haughtily. “When I wasn't doing that, I was sneaking glances at Ginny's. Sometimes I wouldn't let her see me, but other times I'd let her catch me, and one time she caught me looking and didn't say anything. I had much more interesting things than Longbottom's prowess with a wand on my mind, believe me."

"I studied him on my rounds. He'll do all right. He's not up to our standards yet, but I have faith in him."

"If you say so." Draco didn’t sound entirely convinced, but Harry knew he’d made the right choice. Neville would fight as hard as any of the others or harder.

It took a flurry of letters to set up the meeting. They met in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry and Sirius arrived early to scout the place out. They took a corner booth, ordered lunch, and waited for the Gryffindor boy to arrive.

When he came, he was dressed sharply in a loose summer robe. He hadn’t made any effort at disguise, something Harry would have to talk to him about.

“Thanks for coming,” Harry said.

To his credit, Neville didn’t drop his guard. “How many times did Diggory put everyone to sleep during his prefect meetings?”

“How many meetings did we have? He did it every time.”

Now Neville grinned. “So he did.”

Harry gestured to the seat beside him.  “Please, sit down. So do you still want to join me?”

“Yes." Neville sat and reached for a menu. "I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’m still rather surprised you want me though. I must admit, we’re not exactly friends or anything.”

“No, but I’d like that to change.” Harry took a sip of water. “I’ve got some important things coming up this year. I want you to be a part of them. I’m here to offer you a chance at payback. I lost my parents too. I know I want to avenge them. Don’t you want the same?”

“More than just about anything,” Neville said at once. “It won’t bring them back though.”

“No, it won’t,” Harry agreed. “That doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing. The Death Eaters need to be stopped.”

“Killed,” Neville corrected. “Especially Bellatrix.”

Harry hesitated for a moment. “One more thing you need to know. We don’t acknowledge any distinction between light and dark.”

“Meaning?” Neville didn’t sound immediately repulsed.

Harry took a deep breath and plunged into the deep end. “Meaning we have access to some really serious Dark magic. We stop at nothing to stop the Death Eaters.”

“I don’t have a problem with that. If any of you become a problem after this war, we will cross that bridge when we come to it,” Neville said firmly.

Harry was relieved. He took the piece of parchment out of his pocket and showed it to Neville.

“The Order of the Basilisk? Let me guess: it’s a Slytherin thing?”

“Partially. We’ve got some Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs involved too.”

Neville snorted. “We could call ourselves the Order of the Sassy Goat. I don’t care. What matters is the mission.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Neville finished the last of his drink. “Shall we go?”

“You sure you’re ready to deal with the others?” Harry drained his glass as well.

“They may not always be the nicest bunch,” Neville said with vast understatement, “but it’s been a long time since Malfoy tried to hex me. I’ll be fine.”

“Let’s go." Harry stood. "Take my arm.”

Harry Side-Alonged Neville to Malfoy Manor, where the others had already gathered.

“I’d like to introduce our newest member. For those of you who haven’t met him, this is Neville Longbottom. He’s a Gryffindor prefect and a good lad.”

Neville looked around, boldly meeting everyone’s eye. “Hi.”

Everyone greeted Neville, but Draco came up to him and offered his hand. “Welcome to my home.”

Neville accepted the hand and shook it firmly “Thanks, Malfoy.”

“Call me Draco.”

“That’ll take some getting used to.”

“Nothing fancy today, guys,” Harry said. “Let’s just work on drills.”

Everyone groaned.

“We’ve got to build up our strength. The only way to do that is to cast over and over. Either that or we work on our worst spells.”

Neville was several orders of magnitude better than he had been just a couple of months ago. Harry had seen that with his own eyes in Diagon Alley. His new wand was perfectly suited to him. He’d clearly not been idle in the days since.

After half an hour, Harry called a halt to the drill and had everyone work on dodging unfriendly spells. Neville had improved in this area as well over the past year. His confidence soaring now carried over into this realm. He moved quicker, no longer acting as though being hit were inevitable.

After another half hour, Harry called a break and the house elves brought ice water. Everyone drank, but sparingly. They’d learned the hard way that drinking too much while training could cause upchuck.

Harry pulled Ginny aside.

“Did you ever hear from Lucas?” he asked.

“Not a word,” Ginny replied. “I’m sure he’s got to be in agonizing pain. He and Laine were twins. To suddenly have to go on without her must be destroying him. I wish we were able to help him. One should have friends around during times of grief and sorrow.”

“I guess there’s nothing we can do until we get back to school.”

“He will go back, won’t he?” Ginny said suddenly.

“That’s a really good question. I really don’t know.”

“I’ll see if I can’t get through to him. He likes me, or did once. I never encouraged him, but he kept trying to impress me.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Ginny.”

“Thanks." She gave a half-smile. "No pressure, right?”

After the break, the gang started in on Apparition again. They were gradually getting the hang of it. Now they had grasped Apparating to places one couldn’t see.

When everyone was totally worn out, Harry adjourned the meeting to the swimming pool. They were all grubby and sweaty, and a dip in the baths would be just the thing to revitalize them.

Neville turned out to be quite the swimmer. Though Harry had gotten better, he knew that he was mediocre at best. Draco was the best of the bunch, and now at last he had some real competition.

“When did he go and get so skilled?” Pansy said to Harry.

“Neville? Recently. Amazing what the right wand will do for you.”

“He’s like a whole other boy,” Pansy said speculatively.

Harry recognized the look in her eye. “Pansy, what are you plotting?”

“Me? Plotting?” She batted her eyelashes. 

“Don’t play innocent. You’re scheming.”

“Harry, how can you use such strong language with me, your dear friend?”

“I call it like I see it,” he said evenly

“Just re-evaluating a few things. I haven’t taken an interest in a boy since I broke up with Terry. Maybe it’s time for that to change.”

“You and Neville?" Harry said incredulously. "Really?”

“Why so surprised?" Pansy almost sounded offended. "He’s perfectly suitable. His family is very distinguished. He is rather cute, in that bashful puppy dog sort of way. He’s not as fit as I’d like, but it wouldn’t take long to melt the rest of that fat off him. He’s certainly come a long way since first year. You remember how chubby he used to be.”

“He had a bit of weight on him, but I thought he outgrew it.”

“I’m sure the duelling club helped a lot.”

“That and growing up.”

“He’s actually handsome. Fanciable, even.”

Harry snorted. “Pansy, surely you’re not suggesting actually dating a Gryffindor.”

“Draco did it.”

“And do you want to be seen as following him? You do like to do things first.”

“I do, but with how spectacularly his relationship with Patil crashed and burned, there’s nowhere to go but up. I could be the first to do it well.”

“You do everything well.”

“Naturally. It’s nice of you to say so, though. I’ve got you well-trained. I’m sure it wouldn’t take long to wrap him around my finger.”

“You might have more of a challenge there than you think, and I object to that remark.”

Pansy smirked. “That you’re even having this conversation with me tells me you’re starting to heal. That’s good. I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Want to sneak off? I’m sure you could help me get over Laine a lot faster.”

“Don’t be crass. I could, but we’d both wind up unhappy. I have no desire to be used like that.”

“I would never want to.”

“Oh? Am I not desirable?”

“You need to stop sending mixed signals.”

“Just trying to keep you on your toes. You’re responding, which is a good thing. Maybe once you’re ready, if I’m not involved with Neville.”

After they were done swimming, the gang parted ways to get home in time for dinner.

 


	5. Point of Order

Harry had taken his O.W.L. exams with a head full of hazy potion. Given that the tests had started a few days after the death of his girlfriend, Harry had been utterly distracted and likely would have failed everything had not Professor Snape come to his rescue with the Distraction Suppressant. As it was, he barely remembered sitting for the exams.

When the Ministry owl delivered the results, Harry held the envelope for a moment, unopened. His heart was fluttering nervously in his chest. Suppose the potion hadn’t helped? What if he’d still failed everything? What would he do if he couldn’t continue his schooling? Harry pushed away that thought. If he had to, he’d repeat his fifth year. The O.W.L.s were only offered once a year, so he couldn’t just retake them immediately.

He tore the envelope open and read the letter.

 

Dear Mr. Potter,

Please find your results for the Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations below.

 

Ancient Runes: E

Arithmancy: O

Astronomy: A

Charms: E

Defence Against the Dark Arts: O

Herbology: E

History of Magic: O

Potions: O

Transfiguration: E

 

Congratulations on achieving 9 O.W.L.s. You have placed in the 92nd percentile. We look forward to seeing you in 2 years for the N.E.W.T. examinations.

 

Sincerely,

Griselda M. Marchbanks

Wizarding Examination Authority

 

Harry let go of the breath he’d been holding with a great whoosh. Despite all his worry, he’d passed -- more than passed.

“Sirius!” he shouted. “Remus!”

Sirius came running with a drawn wand. “What is it, Harry?”

“I got my OWL marks!”

“I take it you have good news?” Remus said, appearing right behind Sirius.

“Take a look.” Harry held out the parchment proudly.

“This is impressive, Harry,” Sirius said, scanning the results closely. “Well done. I’m very proud of you. I know your parents would be too.”

As it always did, mentioning Harry’s parents caused him a little cut of pain, but the surety with which Sirius spoke filled him with warm feelings of love.

“This demands a celebration,” Sirius declared. “Kreacher!”

The house elf appeared with a bang. “Yes, Master!”

“Prepare all of Master Harry’s favourites for dinner tonight.”

Kreacher bowed deeply and disappeared.

Harry figured it was a good time to ask for a treat. “Can we go for a ride around the city until dinner is ready?”

Sirius grinned at the prospect. “I think that would be grand.”

“Can I drive?” he asked eagerly. 

“Absolutely.”

The ride was wild and thrill-crazy. Sirius howled with delight as they zoomed through the streets. Harry broke all kinds of traffic laws, but the Muggle-repelling charms were active and kept them safe. They parked the bike and went inside, and Harry felt like he still had the wind in his face.

When Harry, Draco, and Theo got together that evening at Malfoy Manor, they naturally compared marks.

“Four, four, and one,” Harry said smugly.

“Two, three, and four,” Draco said.

“Ten E’s,” Theo said.

“Frankly, I find that amazing,” Draco said.

“You’re not the only one. I’m surprised I did that well.”

“I thought you’d be sure to get O’s across the board,” Harry said.

“Maybe in any other year,” Theo reflected. “It would have been worse without Professor Snape’s little miracle potion.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Harry exclaimed.

“So are you continuing on with all your classes?” Theo said.

Harry shook his head. “I’m probably dropping Astronomy. I like History, but I really don’t know if I’ll have time for it. There’s so much else to do. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the duelling club, I wouldn’t see much point to going back at all.”

“And you’re giving up Quidditch.”

“Not that I don’t like to fly, but how can I really justify it when there are matters of life and death to handle?”

Theo nodded slowly. “I understand. Really, I do. So who’s going to be the new captain? Who’s going to be the new Seeker?”

Laine had been the reserve Seeker. Harry had taught her everything he knew. She wasn’t a natural, but she had gotten pretty good.

“I have no idea about Seeker. I guess that’ll be the new captain’s responsibility.”

“Who will that be?” Draco said. “I’m quitting the team too.”

“That’s a pretty big step for the guy who saw himself as team captain in the Mirror of Erised,” Theo observed.

“It was the deepest desire of a child,” Draco said pompously. “I’m a man now. When I became a man, I put away childish things.”

Theo tapped his forehead with one finger. “I’m going to remember you said that.”

“I don’t know if anyone else is going to quit. Really, it doesn’t matter much. Aside from Crabbe and Goyle, it’ll be a fresh team, and even they only played the one season.”

“If Millie doesn’t quit, it should be her,” Harry said. “She was at least a reserve.”

“Slytherin has never had a girl captain,” Draco noted. “Heck, we’ve barely had any girl players.”

“Time to change it up then.”

“She’ll be thrilled.”

“I hope so.”

Harry didn’t want to give up Quidditch. He knew that by doing so, he was likely consigning the Quidditch Cup to Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Ron Weasley would be unbearably smug about it, but there were more important considerations.

He had also decided to give up his prefect’s badge. While the perks of the office were quite nice, he felt that the meetings and patrols took too much time away from his studies. He’d felt stretched very thin last year, and he didn’t want to go for a repeat performance. He didn’t know who Professor Snape would give the silver badge to, nor did he rightly care. He would content himself with a single title of Duelling Captain. It was arguably the most important of the three badges. Making sure that all of his trainees were as good as they could possibly be was the sternest mission.

While Harry, Draco, and Theo normally spent their evenings training and honing their skills (at both Malfoy Manor and Grimmauld Place), they had yet to call another meeting of the Order of the Basilisk. Theo was working with Sirius to see if he might have the ability to become an Animagus. So far he had managed to grow his hair. Draco had no patience for the meditations. Tonight was a meeting of a different group.

During the last year, Harry had worked very hard with Professor Snape to grasp the secrets of an obscure magical art known as Occlumency. It let one protect one’s mind from the magical intrusion of Legilimency. Given that Voldemort was a master Legilimens and that he and Harry shared a bond through the curse scar on Harry’s forehead, there was the possibility that Harry’s mind was an open book should the Dark Lord care to read it. For that reason (amongst others), he’d been barred from any meetings of the Order of the Phoenix.

Not that it had stopped him. So far as Harry could tell, the Order never discussed anything of import. Maybe Dumbledore knew when Harry was spying and made sure to avoid any sensitive topics. Harry didn’t know what to think, but he’d decided that he wanted to be a part of this group. There was very little that could change Harry’s mind once it was made up.

When the time came for the Order meeting, Harry headed for the east wing of the manor. The Order always met in the blue room. They were the first to arrive, but they were not alone for long. Other Order members trickled in and took seats. 

A purple-robed wizard with a great, white beard was the one of the last to arrive.

"Harry, it is good to see you."

"And you, sir." Harry wasn't about to let his grudge against Dumbledore cost him the chance to sit in on meetings firsthand.

"I suppose you're here for the meeting. Fortuitous. I had forgotten to send you an invitation specifically, but you are welcome. I know it will cheer some of our friends to see you there."

"Yes, sir. I'm glad you can finally trust me enough to let me be here." Try as he might, Harry couldn’t keep from getting in a dig at the old man.

"That's not entirely fair, Harry,” Dumbledore said mildly. “You know of your connection to Voldemort. How could we take the risk that your knowledge of our meetings would not compromise our plans? Put your ego aside and see that the greater good is served by this tiny sacrifice on your part. Instead of sulking over the situation, you did what was necessary to keep your mind closed to Voldemort. It took you some months to master this basic fundamental of Occlumency, and yes, now you may know our plans, such as they are."

_ After all that work I did?  _ "I've only mastered the basics of Occlumency?"

"Indeed. Of those who have talent in the Art, most advance to roughly your level of skill in two to three years. Beyond keeping intruders out, there is refinement such that the attacking mind does not encounter active resistance. This is where most people have their troubles. Defending your mind but not letting on that you are takes years to fully achieve. You need not pursue your study of the Art any further unless you wish it."

"Maybe in a few years,” Harry said. “I have better uses for my time this year. I want to keep the duelling club going."

"An excellent idea." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Though Professor Umbridge was too extreme in her approach, she was correct that students need to know how to defend themselves. She wanted it to be mandatory, an extension of her classroom. I would not conscript those who are not willing to fight. Are you satisfied with an all-volunteer club?"

"I am. I thought the disbanding of all clubs was a bit much last year. I see her point, but I think the other clubs are like the Hogsmeade visits: levity and frivolity to ease the stress on the mind."

"Very wise, Harry,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard again. “I must insist that you no longer call it the Ministry Youth."

_ What’s in a name?  _ "Sure. We always called it the duelling club anyway."

"Then yes, the Duelling Club will be permitted to remain. You've done well so far, Captain. I trust you'll continue to do so."

“Thank you, sir.”

Remus and Tonks arrived, holding hands, followed closely by Lucius and Narcissa.

The old wizard smiled. “Ah, here is our host. Good evening, Lucius.”

“Dumbledore,” Lucius said with a polite nod.

“So glad you could join us. A man ought to be present when he has guests in his home.”

Lucius inclined his head. “I am glad to finally be able to participate directly.”

“Your assistance has been invaluable, Lucius,” Dumbledore said effusively. “Thank you for all you have done and all you will yet do.”

“It is my pleasure, Dumbledore.”

“Shall we head in?”

“Yes, let’s.”

Dumbledore called the meeting to order.

“Tonight we are joined by two influential wizards, neither of whom requires an introduction. Everyone here knows Lucius Malfoy, whose house we have been meeting in.”

The members murmured greetings to the blond wizard.

“I also wish to welcome Harry Potter. He’s been very eager to participate.”

Mrs. Weasley stood up. “Hello, Harry, dear. Lovely to see you again. Dumbledore, are we so desperate that we now allow children in the Order?”

Harry answered for himself. “I’m not a child, Missus Weasley. I’ve been fighting Voldemort since I was eleven. I’ve faced him four times and walked away. How many times have you even seen him?”

The Weasley matriarch frowned at him. Her eyes narrowed, but she shook her head wordlessly.

“Harry,” Dumbledore chided gently. “That was unkindly said.”

“Maybe, but it’s still true. You told me once that the truth is a great and terrible thing. I may not have age, but I’ve got experience.”

“You do,” the old wizard granted, “but with age comes a certain temperament.”

“I know.”

"One that many still stand to achieve," said Dumbledore. “Now, let us begin with our reports. Kingsley?”

The black-skinned Auror stood up. “We have made no further progress in penetrating Voldemort’s fortress. The Fidelius Charm is, by nature, impossible to get around. Only by the death of the Secret Keeper can the Secret spread. As Voldemort himself is the Secret Keeper, it seems unlikely that this route will avail us.”

Diggle raised his hand. “Can we not send an infiltrator with a portkey?”

“Such has already been tried,” Shacklebolt replied. “The Ministry lost two Aurors that way. The very protections that we ourselves cast upon the prison are now working against us.”

“We have to draw him out somehow.”

“Are you volunteering to be the bait?” Sirius interjected.

The group argued over the right course of action and ultimately decided nothing. Harry was frustrated to see that these adults could achieve no better ends than he and his friends could.

Dumbledore finally said, “Let us move on. The Wizengamot will take up legislation tomorrow sponsored by the Minister to classify more Dark curses as Unforgivable. He believes that it will enable Magical Law Enforcement to increase their efforts against the Death Eaters.”

“What sort of curses are we talking about?” Remus said.

“I do not have the entire list, but I believe it includes even some curses taught in N.E.W.T.-level Defence.”

“It’s a ridiculous idea,” Sirius said flatly. “Death Eaters don’t obey the law in the first place. Why would making more spells illegal make them change their ways?”

“You are certainly free to make that argument to Mister Fudge,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “I tried without success. In fact, he has asked me to pass on an invitation to the Ministry. It seems he desires Harry to make a statement of support for his new measure.”

“Me?”

Dumbledore nodded sagely. “Your words will carry much weight with the people, Harry.”

Lucius spoke for the first time. “It will not matter if a spell is Unforgivable or not. There are other spells that are easier to cast, still lethal, but these three are of such high power, take such skill, that it's a question of pride. Death Eaters are nothing if not proud.”

“So it’s a futile effort?” Arthur Weasley said.

“It is. Such measures might make people feel good, but they will do nothing except prevent lawful wizards from fighting back with every possible weapon.”

The Order accomplished little that night, as they always did. Harry was starting to wonder why he’d wanted to join so badly. Nothing was happening that he hadn’t been a witness to while spying from the secret passages.

* * *

"Ready to go deal with Fudge?" Sirius asked as they finished up breakfast.

"You know it.” Harry stuffed the last bite of toast in his mouth. “I don't know why you're so critical of him. He's doing everything Dumbledore suggests for getting everyone ready."

"Call it an inherent distrust of politicians,” Sirius replied. “He's not acting out of nobility. He's just worried about public opinion and if he'll be able to stay Minister now that Voldemort is back."

"Does it really matter what his motives are as long as he does what we want him to?"

"Yes, it does. An opportunist is as dangerous as an enemy, because he might betray you at any point. At least with the Death Eaters we know where they stand."

Harry wasn’t worried. "I'll make sure he knows that if he goes against us, I'll have Rita crucify him. People love me much more than him."

Sirius laughed uproariously. "Just don't make it too overt. We don't want you arrested for threatening the Minister in his own office."

"I won’t make any threats, just promises."

Sirius grinned. "Semantics."

"Some antics? I'm always up for some antics."

"Maybe later. Shall we?"

"Let's."

Leaving the dishes on the table for Kreacher to clean up, Harry and Sirius moved from the dining room up to the drawing room on the second floor. The fire was crackling cheerfully. Sirius took the tin of Floo powder from the mantel and held it out to Harry.

Harry threw the pinch of powder into the flames, causing them to turn a brilliant green. He stepped into the fire, barely feeling the tremendous heat.

"Ministry of Magic!" he yelled, and the world began to spin.

Harry hated this part of Floo travel. He'd much rather Apparate directly to the Ministry, but he wasn’t supposed to know how to Apparate yet.

When the spinning finally stopped, Harry stepped out of the Floo and into the polished marble of the Atrium. He'd been to the Ministry twice before. The place was very grandiose. When magic was a part of the equation, feats of architecture were unparalleled. The place had features that would never hold up in a Muggle building.

Sirius was a second behind him. High security was much in evidence. Aurors were on the alert for trouble, and as they approached the security desk, three sets of eyes settled on them.

"Names?" said the official.

"Harry Potter and Sirius Black."

"Purpose?"

"We have an appointment with the Minister."

"Confirmed," said a second official, looking at a schedule.

"Present your wands for identification."

Harry glanced to Sirius, who nodded. He reluctantly handed over his wand. The third official waved a strange medallion over it and jotted down some notes. He did the same for Sirius' wand.

"Proceed."

Sirius led the way to a bank of lifts. There was one with the gate open, so they stepped inside.

"Minister's office," Sirius said to the air.

"Thank you," a disembodied voice said happily. "You have made a simple lift happy to be of service."

"Shut up," Sirius muttered. "That would make me happy."

The lift took them down to level one.

"Level One. Minister for Magic and support staff."

The door opened smoothly.

"Thank you for giving a humble lift a momentary purpose and the satisfaction of a job well-done. Have a nice day."

"Whose idea was it to make these things talk?" Harry said.

"Someone who obviously never has to use the blasted things. Let's go."

This level reflected the high status of the Ministry people who worked here. The floor was carpeted in a rich purple, and every door was both wide and tall, made of mahogany. Brass plaques one each door were engraved with the name and title of the office-holder. It seemed designed to amplify the importance of the people who worked there and to make those visitors or petitioners feel small.

The Minister's door was open, and he was with Madam Umbridge, who was droning on about needing to hire more entry-level staffers just to handle basic functions. When he saw them, Minister Fudge perked up.

"Ah, Black!" he said with evident relief. "Do come in. Harry, so good to see you again. Thank you for coming. Dolores, I'm afraid we'll have to take this up at another time. Mister Black and Mister Potter have been good enough to come down to discuss public relations. You must excuse us."

“Of course, Minister.” She inclined her head politely to Harry. “Captain Potter, so good to see you again.”

“Hello, Madam Umbridge. Good to see you again.”

“And you. I do hope you’re here to lend your support to the Minister’s proposed legislation.”

“Maybe. We’ll have to talk about it first.”

“Well, let’s get down to it, shall we?” Fudge said cheerfully.

“That’s why we’re here.”

“Good!" Fudge brought his hands together. "I’ll start. What I’m proposing is to add a dozen or so spells to the list of Unforgivable Curses. These spells are already classified as Dark. What we need are stronger punishments. A lifetime term in prison is just the sort of deterrent to keep people from using them. I’m hopeful that the Wizengamot will pass the legislation within the week. Your voices would assist greatly in convincing some of the more stubborn members.”

“What makes you think Death Eaters are going to suddenly start obeying the law?” Harry asked pointedly. “What I mean is, the Cruciatus, Imperius, and Avada Kedavra are already punishable with a life sentence. The Death Eaters still use them. How is a new law going to stop them from using the spells?”

“I’m not saying it will stop them, but there’s no guarantee that we’ll have evidence that they did one of the big three. The Priori Incantatem only reveals so much. It’s about punishment. If we catch them using these spells, we’ll be able to send them away for good.”

“You’re preventing decent wizards from using those spells for defending themselves against Death Eaters,” Sirius interjected.

“No decent wizard would use the Blood-Boiling Curse,” Fudge declared. “Similarly the Flesh-Dissolving Curse or the Body Inverso. The Flaying Hex, which was used in that most evil attack on the Home for Magical Children. What possible use could a Light wizard have for the Skin-Boiling Curse?”

“None,” Harry admitted, “but there are other spells on the list, like the Hair-Yanking Hex. Having every hair on the body pulled out is certainly painful and likely incapacitating, but it’s hardly Dark.”

“What about the Acid Spray?” Fudge asked.

“That seems like a legitimate spell. It can do just as much damage to Death Eaters.”

“It can, but the Deonycho Hex is indefensible.”

“That’s the spell that rips out fingernails, right? I’ll grant that it’s a bit vicious, but it would definitely make a Death Eater drop his wand.”

“So would the Curse of a Thousand Cuts, but such a cruel spell would damage the psyche of a Light wizard. Have you heard about the Hara-Kiri Curse? It comes from Japan and makes the victim think he’s sliced open his belly. It’s Unforgivable there. Why should it not be so here?”

“I think we’re getting off the point,” Sirius cut in. “Yes, there are many spells with nasty effects, but the crime is in the intention. If someone uses a Disarming Charm against a Death Eater, it’s a good thing. If a Death Eater uses it against an Auror, it’s a bad thing. You’re not going to achieve anything by just declaring certain magics as bad.”

“Dark magic is a matter of symbolism and intent,” Harry said, quoting his lessons.

“Well, yes,” Fudge said. “I don’t expect that all the spells I’ve suggested will become Unforgivable, but if the nastiest ones are, it will be good for society as a whole. How far are you prepared to go, Harry?”

“I may not agree with all of it, but I really can’t defend the worst of those spells," Harry admitted. “But I must have certain assurances. Tell me of how the reforms are going in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Splendidly, my dear boy! Splendidly indeed.”

“Every person arrested is guaranteed a speedy public trial?” Harry pressed. It still rankled him that Sirius had been locked away with dementors for twelve years without anyone actually making sure he had really done the foul deeds. Having been accused of many things he hadn’t done by the Dursleys, exoneration of the innocent had become a fierce part of Harry’s character.

“Naturally!” Fudge said easily. “It’s the right of every citizen of the Empire, magical or Muggle.”

“Will these new Unforgivables also be punished by a mandatory life term in the prison?”

“They certainly will. They are just as evil as the others, and no decent wizard should have cause to use them.”

“And the Wizengamot is going to debate before they decide which curses to add?”

“Yes.”

Harry still had some minor qualms, but he felt that  _ most _ of his objections had been addressed. He said, "I’ll support your legislation.”

Sirius didn’t look happy. He didn’t approve of the Ministry, as a rule. Having to sit in close proximity while the top politician chattered away, talking blithely about life sentences in prison, was visibly fraying his nerves.

_ I should get him home. _

Fudge stood. “I’ve scheduled a press conference. Would you care to join me?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

In the Atrium, there was a large fountain in the shape of a witch and wizard surrounded by several magical creatures. Bubbling water splashed merrily. A small stage and podium had been erected. Several people milled around in front of it, ignoring the chairs.

Fudge stepped up to the podium. "Ladies and gentlewizards of the press, thank you for coming today."

The small crowd took their seats.

"The return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came as a great shock to us all, and I regret that we were caught flat-footed. We are well on our way to remedying that situation. I am pleased to inform you that the war effort against the Death Eaters is going well. We will graduate a full class of Aurors within the month. Another full class is halfway through training. A dozen new Healer positions are available at St. Mungo's, with more to come.

"We have the full support of the Germans. They remember Grindelwald all too clearly and their Minister expressed to me that they will do anything and everything to help us. Three squads of their top Aurors arrived yesterday to assist with toughening up our training regimen."

Rita Skeeter stood up. "Have the Aurors been cleared to use the Unforgivables?"

"In part. As you know, the authority for Aurors to use the Unforgivables during war was authorized by Bartemius Crouch during the last war. It is my judgment that there can be no acceptable use of the Cruciatus by good people, so it is still forbidden. Aurors have, however, been granted freedom to kill or control in the name of the greater good. Such usage will be strictly monitored, and anyone found to have acted improperly will be dealt with.

“Speaking of the Unforgivables, I recently submitted legislation to the Wizengamot to have more Dark curses classified as such. Only a thoroughly evil wizard would use the Flaying or the Blood-Boiling Curse. It is true that this measure will not stop them from being used, but we can enact more stringent punishments if they are. A clever Death Eater would not be caught using the big three and might escape justice with a short prison term and a large monetary fine. Former Minister Bagnold allowed such things. Cornelius Fudge will not.

“At this time, please allow me to introduce to you a man who needs no introduction: Mister Harry Potter."

Harry stepped forward. "Thank you, Minister. Good morning, everyone. I just wanted to say that I support the Ministry and the Minister in all of the actions taken thusfar. I also support this legislation. No decent wizard needs to use a Flesh-Dissolving Curse or one that turns a person inside out. There are many spells that can injure, incapacitate, or even kill that don’t require a vicious cruelty on the part of the caster. Making them punishable by a life sentence will help to protect innocent people.

“I’d also like to take a moment to talk about Light magic. The Dark Lord-" Harry didn't want to say the name and cause a panic just then. "-has declared war on our society. He seduced the dementors to his cause, and his opening gambit was bold. The dementors give him an advantage, but we can negate them if every citizen attempts to learn the Patronus Charm. I learned it when I was in my third year, and I successfully cast it in my fourth. You also can learn it if you believe in yourself. I understand that the Ministry has a list of licensed tutors capable of providing the instruction."

"We do, Mister Potter,” said Fudge. “Thank you for mentioning it. Anyone who wishes to retain the services of a tutor should contact the Ministry. Very soon there will also be classes held here at the Ministry for those who do not have the means to hire. Now, I believe Mister Black would like to say a few words."

Sirius approached the podium. "Hello, I'm Sirius Black. Despite my own wrongful incarceration, I stand behind the Ministry one hundred percent. If we stand together and do not allow the forces of evil to fracture our resolve and divide us, we can triumph. Once my godson returns to school, I will be rejoining the Auror department. I have already made a substantial donation to the department coffers to immediately allow for the hiring of more Aurors. I hope to be able to lead a squad."

Rita stood up again. "Has your escape from prison given you any insight on how to retake the compound?"

"For reasons of operational security, I cannot discuss that at this time."

"Have you encouraged your godson to go into the Aurors?"

"I certainly have, not that he needs to hear it from me."

“Please refer any further questions to the Ministry press office,” Fudge said, taking the podium once more. “Thank you for coming. Good day.”

The reporters dispersed, but Rita pushed to the front.

“Harry! A word with you?” she called.

“If I must,” Harry said with a cheeky grin. “Good to see you again so soon, Rita.”

“Likewise, Harry. I must say, I didn’t expect to see you here. I’m sure your voice will carry a lot of weight with the Wizengamot.”

“Well, that was the idea.”

Rita turned to Sirius. “Sirius, you’re looking well. I hope I didn’t bring up any unpleasant memories.”

“Thank you, Rita. No need to apologize. I think about the old prison at least a dozen times a day. It’s getting better. At least it’s not all the time now.”

“That’s good to hear. With your improved mental health, have you started dating anyone?”

“I’ve had several dates. None of them went anywhere.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to be a feature story for Witch Weekly?”

“Quite sure.”

“You know, I don’t think my cousin Kristy is seeing anyone at the moment. Would you like me to introduce you?”

“Thanks, but no, Rita.”

“Don’t you even want to see a picture?”

Sirius sighed. “Do I have a choice?”

Rita smiled broadly and took a photograph out of her purse. Harry caught a glimpse of a blonde woman who looked like a ten years younger version of the ace reporter. Rita was a handsome woman; Kristy was downright gorgeous.

“Wow,” was all he could say.

“She’s trying to break into modeling,” Rita explained.

“I’d say she’ll succeed,” Sirius said appreciatively. “Okay, Rita. You’ve convinced me. Have Kristy send me an owl.”

“I’ll do that.”

“But now we have to go.”

* * *

Harry called another meeting of the Order of the Basilisk the next night. Gathering up all of his friends was quite a chore. He was glad to have Sirius and Lucius to help out. Remus and Tonks were off on a date. Elan and Percy were attending an Auror meeting. Percy was Head of International Magical Cooperation, and his office was the official liaison to the delegation of German Aurors. Elan was helping out by serving as a translator.

“Hey, everyone," he said as he entered the room. "Good to see you all. Let’s get right into it, shall we?”

They practiced curses and dodging for an hour or so, then they broke off into groups for more specialized training. Sirius took Theo and Tracy into another room to meditate. Lucius began to berate/exhort the others to achieve Apparition. Harry and Draco smirked at each other, having been through his instruction before. 

“You are not sufficiently determined!” Lucius said forcefully, as Arcen turned on the spot, only to fall on his behind.

Harry felt as frustrated as his friends at their slow progress at Apparition. Given her prior experience, Pansy had been the first to catch onto the trick. She was already flitting around the room as casual as you please. She'd quickly mastered moving from room to room and up levels. Now she was bouncing all around the house, showing off. 

Pansy, so bad at Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration. Pansy, so disdainful of Herbology and indifferent to Potions. She'd committed herself to a behind the scenes role, peddling influence and making deals. She had taken over the public relations aspects of the organization. She was already so plugged into the gossip mill that it was a natural extension of her strength. Harry knew he would have to make sure she had another introduction to Rita Skeeter.

None of the others had come far at all. Millie had lost her temper several times. Theo had been able to get to the circle once, but he hadn't repeated the trick. Ginny, younger than the others, was assured by Mr. Malfoy that she could do it if she tried. Neville had fallen over quite a few times.

Harry did his best to encourage them, but he didn't know quite how to describe it. He could demonstrate just fine, but he wasn't as eloquent as Mr. Malfoy. Draco was in the same condition, and the two privately groused about it through the session.

"There's other things we could be doing than this," Draco complained.

"It's important for them to learn to Apparate. It could save their lives one day."

"I know that. I'm saying that it's a waste of time for us to be here for it. We should be working on new skills."

“You already said you didn’t want to be an Animagus. What did you have in mind?”

Draco shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

Harry paused. “So I’m thinking about recruiting Rita Skeeter too.”

Draco frowned. “Are you sure that’s wise? She is a reporter. We don’t exactly want our secrets splashed on the front page.”

“I thought you liked her.”

“I do. She’s an old friend of the family. That doesn’t stop me from recognizing the truth about her.”

“She could be very useful to us," Harry pointed out. "Having a person in the media would help us manage information.”

“Doesn’t she already do that for you? Every time she puts out an article, you always get painted in glowing terms. If she were younger, I’d say she had a crush on you.”

Harry flushed. “It’s not like that.”

Draco leered. “Some women do like younger men.”

“Knock it off," Harry muttered. "Rita’s a friend.”

“She’s mine too. Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t think there’s a need to make any changes to your current relationship with her. What would you have her do that she’s not already doing?”

Try though he might, Harry could not answer that question.

“Exactly,” Draco said. “So why should we invite her to our meetings?”

“I guess you’re right. I don’t know. I think it’s just the fact that she’s an adult and we’re a bunch of kids. The Death Eaters were able to beat us at the Department of Mysteries because they’re older and stronger in magic. I want to counter that.”

“We’ve already got a good number involved. You should also consider that we were up against the inner circle. We faced the best of the best and were able to mostly walk away. Do you know I have nightmares about that night?”

Harry was surprised. He had dealt with that for so long now that it came as a shock that it might be happening to his best mate as well. “You too?”

“There’s only one logical reason why we’re not all dead. You, me, my brother, and everyone else who was there that night; Bellatrix alone could probably dispose of all of us. She needed us alive so we could tell her where the prophecy was. Otherwise it would have been over before it even started.”

“Yeah.”

Draco shook his head. “Sorry, mate. What do you say to helping me practice Side-Along?”

Harry was Draco’s passenger for half an hour, by which point the others working on Apparition were growing frustrated. Pansy was still the only one who had mastered it fully enough to move on to trying Side-Along for herself.

“Here,” Harry said, pushing Draco in her direction. “He’d love to be your test victim.”

Pansy’s smirk was downright sinister.

By this time, Millie and Arcen had to go home. Theo and Tracy had finished their meditations with Sirius and said goodbye. Neville had to check on his greenhouse. Sirius left to write some letters, so that left Harry and Ginny alone together.

“Any luck?” he said.

“None yet." She was frowning in frustration. "Did you two really manage to do this last summer?”

“We did. I know it’s hard, but just keep practicing.”

“I will. How are you doing?” she said.

“I’m okay, I guess. You?”

She shrugged. “Still adjusting. I keep wondering what next year is going to be like at school. It’s hard to picture walking into the dorm and not seeing her.”

“Yeah." Harry waited for the sinking feeling that always came over him when he thought about Laine. "I wasn’t able to really see anyone last year either, so this summer has felt pretty normal. Once we’re back at school, I’m sure I’ll lose it more than a few times.”

She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks.”

Her gaze was drawn to Harry's chest. “That’s the locket.”

"Yes." Harry took it off. “I’ve been wearing it ever since that night at the Ministry. It’s all I have left of her.”

“It’s open,” Ginny noted. “It never did that before.”

He contemplated it again. “I don’t know why.”

“She loved it, you know. She was always showing it off. She even let me try it on a few times.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. She liked to rub it in Michelle’s face. She let me try it on that last night.”

Harry’s heart felt like a lump in his chest. “The night she died.”

“Yeah,” Ginny said softly. “I still don’t know why I saw that vision. I gave her the locket back and was going to lay down when she saw it too. That’s how I knew it was more than just a bad dream. Maybe the locket had magic powers. It is the only thing that didn’t go through the veil.”

“If it was magical, it’s not anymore. I’ve been holding onto it ever since that night. I haven’t had any visions.”

“Well it’s broken now, isn’t it?”

“True,” Harry admitted. “So you don’t think you’re some kind of Seer?”

Ginny laughed. “I hope not. Merlin, it all sounds so tedious. I don’t want to stare into a crystal ball or a used tea cup and guess at what I think I see.”

“Daphne told me Trelawney’s class was always a bit of a joke. She used to just invent things on her homework.”

“Imagine that.”

“How’s Percy doing?” Harry was worried that his friend was trying to be brave for everyone. “I see him here, but what about when nobody’s looking?”

“He’s good. Mum is smothering him with love and food. He’s probably put on half a stone since he came home.”

Harry found that easy to believe. “She  _ is  _ an amazing cook.”

“She certainly is. I bet her meatloaf could make even Voldemort smile.”

Harry laughed. “Now that would be an interesting way to win this war.”

It felt good to laugh. Ginny was possessed of a sly wit that Harry appreciated. They chatted until it was nearly time for dinner when Draco pulled his girlfriend away for a smooch before she went home.

Harry returned to Number Twelve in a good mood. The meeting had been very productive. He was even whistling a bit as he headed to the dining room where the family had gathered. The Malfoys were all there, as were all the Tonkses. Harry, Sirius, Remus, and Theo rounded out the table. Their guest was Elan’s girlfriend, Bridget Sawyer, and the couple had an announcement to make shortly after the soup course.

Elan stood up. “My family, I must inform you of something very important.” He took Bridget’s hand and gazed at her lovingly for a moment. “I’ve asked Bridget to marry me, and she’s accepted.”

Narcissa shrieked, clasping both hands to her heart. She leaned over and embraced her son fiercely. “At last,” she sobbed, suddenly in tears. “At last!” It seemed that Elan had managed to keep his intentions hidden from his mother.

Everyone congratulated the happy couple. It took quite a few minutes before the room quieted down.

“Have you set a date?” Narcissa said.

“The wedding will take place at Christmas,” Elan said. “We’re not sure where yet.”

“My mother and I will work on that,” Bridget promised.

They all resumed their meal, but the mood was much lighter and the conversation more animated.

Elan had more news. “Percy has also proposed, to Lynn Fawcett. They plan to marry around Easter.”

“Lots of weddings,” Sirius noted.

“It’s a good thing,” Narcissa said. “Now we need to arrange for yours. Tell me about your date with Melody Marconi.”

Sirius made an awful face. “What’s to tell? We had dinner together.”

“How did it go?” Narcissa pressed.

“Well, the food was edible, so I’d call it a success.”

“What about Miss Marconi?”

“Oh, she liked the food too,” Sirius said brightly.

Narcissa glared at him. “And did she like you?”

“I didn’t ask, but I’m a pretty likable guy.”

Narcissa was practically gritting her teeth. “Did you like her?”

Sirius refilled his water goblet. “I’ve had more interesting conversations with the suits of armour up at Hogwarts.”

Harry snickered. Narcissa shot him a cross look.

“She’s one of the most talkative people I know.”

“That might just be the problem,” Sirius speculated. “Her conversation was so vacuous I thought I’d climbed a mountain. That’s how thin the air was around her. I’ve never heard someone talk so much and say so little.”

“She’s a lovely girl,” Narcissa protested.

“She’s pretty, I’ll grant you,” Sirius said, waving his hand absently, “but there’s more to love than looks. What’ll hold my interest once her beauty fades?”

“You’re too picky, Sirius,” Narcissa declared with exasperation. “You’ve already rejected all the career witches because they weren’t pretty enough.”

“Oh there were plenty of those girls who caught my eye, but there is a lot more to love than looks and smarts. Moira didn’t get my jokes; Lisanne had the most horrible laugh. You know my sense of humour. It just wouldn’t have been good. Why won’t you stop torturing me and just let me find my own wife?”

“Because you wouldn’t do it!” she shrieked. “If I left it up to you, Harry would have a wife before you would.”

“I’m not that hopeless,” he said, now sounding defensive.

“You are! Just pick the best one of the hundred I’ve set you up with. You’ll start with a friendship and the love will grow from it. I've seen it happen so many times before.”

“Aren’t there enough weddings going on already?” Sirius sounded irritated.

“Best to get them all out of the way at once so you all can start making babies.” Narcissa got a dreamy look on her face.

“Is that what this is all about?” Sirius demanded. “You want babies to take care of?”

“I admit nothing.”

“I’m sure Elan and Bridget will be more than eager to oblige you. Grandchildren might distract you from my love life.”

“Do you plan to have many children?” Narcissa asked Tonks.

“We haven’t really talked about it yet.”

“Don’t wait on that discussion. It’s important to establish early on what your mutual goals are.”

“I want at least three,” Bridget said.

“Boys or girls?” Narcissa said.

“I’m not picky.”

"I also have news,” Lucius said, sounding pleased to be able to enlighten everyone. “It’s not nearly so momentous as my son’s, but my sources tell me that Dumbledore has enticed Professor Slughorn to return."

Sirius perked up. "Old Sluggy? Fantastic. He actually knows how to teach, which is more than I can say for Snape."

Lucius replied, "Severus is a genius with potions."

"Yes, and he teaches worse than a stuttering centaur."

"What will become of Professor Snape?" Harry said.

"He's finally got the Defence job he's always wanted."

"Has he? Well that's excellent."

"It's an interesting move,” Remus said thoughtfully. “We'll see how it plays out."

Harry could barely believe it. Snape had applied for the defence job every year since he’d been hired. Why would Dumbledore have given him the position at last?

“You boys would do well to befriend Professor Slughorn,” Lucius said. “He’s very well-connected. If he invites you to anything, rearrange your schedule so that you are available. His little groups are legendary.”

“Group?” Harry said.

“Think of it as a social club.”

“We won’t have time for much socializing this year.”

“This would be the exception. Only those who have the potential to be influential one day are invited to his tea sessions and dinner parties. They’re people you will want to get on your side.”

“Regulus used to be in the Slug Club,” Sirius said.

“I’m certain he will want to recruit you, Harry. You’d be the ultimate feather in his cap.”

“You be careful of him, Harry,” Sirius said. “Sluggy likes to hobnob with important people in the hope that it’ll rub off on him. It does. All kinds of people owe him favours. Don’t get yourself involved with his schemes.”

“I won’t,” Harry promised. “I’m careful of everyone.”

“Constant vigilance,” Draco chimed in. “Speaking of famous people to be careful of, I saw Lockhart was in the paper again.”

“What’s he done now?”

“He’s been linked to the recently deposed Spanish Minister for Magic. Now they suspect that he might be a contributing factor. Minister Santiago’s wife has been missing for several weeks now. Foul play is suspected.”

“Do they suspect Lockhart?”

“No, he left Madrid very ostentatiously on his way to New York.”

“He’s going to America?” Lucius interjected. “When?”

“About a week ago.”

Lucius paled. “I must depart on the morrow.”

“Can you do that?” Sirius said.

“I must. I have several contacts in America. I have been working through them to set up meetings with some of their government officials. I was going to leave next week, but I see I must go now. That fool could do our country unbelievable harm with his antics. With luck, I’ll be able to convince them to pressure their government into action. I’ll be taking Percy with me.”

“Who are you meeting?” Narcissa inquired.

“Xaran Lochmaster,” he said to her before turning to the others. “He’s the Deputy Headmaster at Pine Manor School of Magic. His family is very old and well-respected.”

“Does he have a grandson named Aeryk?” Draco said.

“He does.”

“We met Aeryk at the World Cup. Played a bit of Quodpot with them. Nearly beat them. Nice blokes, I guess.”

“I’ll be gone several days. Possibly as long as a week.”

“Will you be safe?” Narcissa said.

“I should be. Getting into North America is difficult in the best of times. With the war on, they’re sure to have tightened things up even more. As you know, magical barriers prevent the use of broom, portkey, and Apparition. There are only a few access points. Voldemort might be able to tell where I am at that distance, but the Death Eaters won’t be able to get to me.” He stood up. “If I am to depart in the morning, I must make ready. Please excuse me, everyone.”

“May I go with you, Father?” Draco said.

Lucius paused in the doorway. For a long moment he considered his younger son. “If you are ready to go by morning, you may come.”

“I don’t believe this,” Elan said quietly. “You’ll let Draco go with you, but not me?”

“Draco is on good terms with the grandson of my principal contact in the American world. His presence and continuing good relationship with this boy may be ultimately prove to be the deciding factor in how far the Americans will participate in this war. When one of your friends can do the same, I will consider taking you along. As it is, none of your contacts from your time at Durmstrang have turned up any support. You will stay here, continue to work with Harry and the rest of the Order, build up your strength and skills, and be ready to duel upon my return. I wish to see the best you have.”

Lucius departed with a swirl of his cape.

Elan sighed and bowed his head. “He’s right. I’m of no better use than a duelling dummy, only not as intelligent.”

“Don’t say that, love,” Bridget said, kissing his cheek. “You’ve certainly made us influence our families to sit this one out if nothing else. That counts for something, right.”

“It’ll be good to see all the lads,” Elan said. “If nothing else, the wedding will be a chance to see them.”

“If nothing else?” she huffed. “You’d better watch it, Malfoy. Talk like that will get you in trouble. You  _ know _ who my bridal party is made up of. You do not want to give them a reason to make you suffer.”

“Lynn and Maddy.”

“And also Jess, Zabe, and Heather.”

“I’m not afraid of them," Elan declared. "I’ll have strong men backing me up. Draco, Harry, I was hoping you’d be two of my groomsmen.”

“Absolutely,” Harry said. “I’m honoured.”

“What, I don’t get to be best man?” Draco demanded.

“Sorry, brother mine, but I’m going to ask Percy. He did ask me, after all. I had to return the favour. We did go through hell together.”

“Which you don’t remember.”

“Which I don’t remember,” Elan agreed pleasantly. “But we did go through it together, and that forged a bond between us that transcends mere friendship. Part of what there now exists between us demands that we stand up with each other when we get married. It’s the done thing. You’ll just have to accept it.”

“Who are your other two?”

“Sam and Derrick. Don’t worry. They won’t have to do much more than show up for the standing up. Yes, the standing up they will do for me at the ceremony. That they will have to show up for. Yes.”

“Very good,” Draco said with a knowing smirk.

Elan turned to Bridget. “If we’ve quite finished dessert, my love, I did promise to have you home early.”

“Ah, yes. That’s right," she said. "Good night, everyone. It’s been lovely meeting you all. We must see each other very soon.”

Everyone bid farewell to the newly engaged couple. Tonks and Remus stood up.

“Looks like the party’s breaking up,” Sirius said. “That’s a shame.”

“I’ve got work in the morning, and I pulled a double today,” Tonks said. “I’m exhausted.”

“Sleep tight.”

“I’m going to make sure she gets home safely,” Remus said.

“Narcissa and Andy will be talking all night, and I figure I’ll be staying awhile, so I’ll see you when you return, Remus,” Ted said. “I’d like to get to know more about you. Don’t take too long, you hear?”

Tonks blushed to the roots of her purple hair. “Daddy, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Sorry, princess.”

“You’re  _ still _ embarrassing me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy, now please stop.”

He smiled gently. “Okay, princess.”

Remus and Tonks departed.

Narcissa stood up. “I must fetch a few things from home, Andy. We’ll get to work on the planning. Harry, will you escort me to the Apparition point?”

“Certainly.”

Narcissa put one arm around him as they walked. He was as tall as her now.

“How are you, Harry?”

“I’m fine, I guess.”

“If that were true, I would be most surprised. How are you coping with your loss?”

Harry looked into Narcissa’s eyes and saw that she really did want to know.  With a sigh, he gave up his pretense. “Badly. I miss her. I dream about her every night. I can see her so vividly in my dreams, but when I wake up, I feel like her memory is fading.”

“Have you been able to mourn her?” Narcissa asked gently.

“No,” he naid numbly. “They never told me when the service was.”

“Harry, I am the closest thing you have to a mother, but I know that I am only a shade of the real thing, and for that I am truly regretful. I do what I can for you. You have never sought comfort from me, but you have never truly had need.” She reached out and stroked his hair.

Her gentle touch made him feel both soothed and safe enough to let his guard down.  His breath caught when she began to pull him toward her. Narcissa’s voice, somehow fierce and gentle all at once when she said, “Oh, dear boy,” shattered the dam he’d built to hold back his emotions, and he sobbed out his grief. He’d always felt a little strange talking about love with Sirius (and certainly with the lads!), but at last he was able to admit how he’d felt about Laine.

Narcissa’s arms encircled him, comforting him, protecting him. She rocked him, gently smoothing the untamable hair.

“Sometimes the world hurts us in unimaginable ways. We all need a mother’s comfort from time to time. I’m here. I’m right here. Let it go, Harry. Don’t hold it inside. You poor boy. You poor, poor boy. You’ve lost so much already. You won’t lose me. I won’t leave you. Mummy Cissa’s here. We’ll make everything all right.”

Overcome with exhaustion, Harry allowed himself to be led to bed. She Transfigured his robes into pyjamas and tucked him in. She brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes and heard her whisper a sleep spell. Then he was unconscious.

 


	6. Name Day

The full moon a few days later on that month was an unremarkable affair. Theo spent the night at Malfoy Manor. Chitter, Padfoot, and Moony ranged all over Number Twelve in madcap chases, antics, and shenanigans. It was everything Harry had come to expect from being a Marauder, and he loved it.

Harry wasn’t very energetic the next day, so for the weightlifting session with Theo, he stuck with low weight and aimed for high repetitions. He took frequent breaks, drank a lot of water, and kept the music playing.

Elan had decided to obey his father’s directive and had taken to lifting with the lads, building up his strength. He had not yet been to an Order meeting. That night would be his first.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “I haven’t duelled anyone in ages. I’m sure the training dummies will annihilate me.”

“I don’t think we’re doing enough, “ Theo said hotly, slinging his weights around. “I need a challenge.”

“Add ten pounds to that barbell,” Harry suggested.

“No, a real challenge. I want to  _ duel _ . Maybe two people at once. Maybe someone much better than me. What do you say, Harry?”

“You want to duel me?”

“You’re pretty good,” Theo said wheedlingly. “You can make me better.”

“You know we have the Dummies,” Harry reminded him.

“They can only react how they’re spelled to react. They can’t think like a real live enemy. They’re good for practice, but not for simulation.”

“Ask Mister Malfoy,” Harry suggest wryly. “He’ll give you all the practice you could want when he gets back.”

That night at the meeting, Tonks was in charge. Harry was pleased to finally cast a non-verbal Disarming Charm. “Yes!” he exclaimed as Sirius' wand sailed out of his hand.

“Well done,” Sirius said, going to retrieve it. “Now do it again.”

So he did.

Harry was soon able to do it without effort. He moved on to a simple Levitation Charm. It was like reviewing the first year curricula all over again. He had a fair amount of success.

When the time came to test their skills against the Dummies, Theo balked.

“Anyone want to have a real duel?” he asked hopefully, looking around at everyone.

“Not enough of a challenge, Nott?” Tonks said cheekily.

“I just want an opponent who can think for himself. These Dummies are fine for target practice and dodging practice, but they’re not going to behave like Death Eaters.”

“You do have a point. Anyone else feel the same?”

Most of them reluctantly agreed.

“All right, then! Live duels it is! Pair off.”

Harry wound up fighting against Millie and Arcen. He probably could have taken on one of the adults on a good day, but he was entirely too worn out from the previous night’s activities. As it was, they put him through his paces until he broke through Millie’s shield with a Banishing Charm that sent her flying against the wall where a “misaimed” Sticking Charm had landed. Her hands immobilized, her wand rolling on the floor, she was beaten. Arcen fell to a non-verbal Stunner, the first Harry had ever cast.

“Nice one,” he said after being revived. “Wish I could figure those out.”

Theo, the eager one, went up against Tracy. This duel was clearly no-holds-barred. Tracy was a gifted witch, and she was smart as a whip too. She used some spells that they hadn’t covered in class, and Theo retaliated with a series of nasty curses. Tracy fell back, her shield crumbling. She caught a Slicer on the arm and dropped her wand with a spray of blood and a cry of pain.

The duel was clearly over, but Theo didn’t stop. He cast another curse. Harry jumped in to protect Tracy, casting a shield of his own -- non-verbally. There was no thought. He simply reacted. He wasn’t about to see another of his friends get hurt.

“Enough! She’s down,” Tonks said

“What’s wrong with you, Theo?” Harry shouted, stalking over to him. He had never seen Theo like this.

“I was trying to win,” Theo said calmly. “She would have done the same to me.”

“Did you have to use a Slicer?” he snapped.

“What should I have used?” he demanded scornfully. “A Tickling Charm? I was in a sequence. I didn’t know what would get through. We’re fighting a duel to the death here.”

“Not to the death, you idiot!” Harry snarled.

“When your opponent loses her wand, you must cease to use damaging spells,” Tonks said reprovingly. “An Incarceration Hex would have been appropriate, as would a Stunner or a Body-Bind. Bad form, Nott. Please apologize to Miss Davis.”

“Sorry, Tracy,” Theo said, but Harry didn’t believe him.

“Say it like you mean it,” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, Tracy," he said, sounding a hair more genuine. "I got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s all right,” Tracy said, gritting her teeth. “I’ll be fine.”

“Let’s get you a seat,” Harry said solicitously, helping her to stand. “That cut looks bad.”

“It’s an easy enough fix.”

Harry had made a point to read up on his Healing spells. Andromeda had pointed him to several excellent resources. He used that knowledge now, and soon Tracy’s arm was as smooth and unblemished as ever. With a quick Reparo Charm, her shirt was mended. The bloodstain was the only proof that she’d ever been injured.

“Are you okay?”

She smiled at him. “Never better. Thanks.”

“Glad to help.”

Despite the rather dramatic end to the duel, Tonks had them carry on.

“People die in combat,” she said bluntly. “You won’t be able to have any downtime then, so we shouldn’t take any now. Elan, you’re up.”

“Come on, Theo,” Elan said, bowing sarcastically.

Theo didn’t start soft. He cast three Bludgeoners, a Slicer, and a non-verbal. Elan sidestepped, shuffling his feet quickly. He responded with a Blinding Hex, turned the floor to ice, and cast a Tripping Jinx. Theo summoned sand to give himself traction on the ice and sent sand towards Elan’s face. Elan sprang to the side to avoid it and kept moving.

Theo snarled, “Stand still!” He cast a Bone-Breaker at Elan’s legs.

Elan sprang into the air, aided by a Springing Charm. He did an awkward flip and didn’t stick the landing. He crumbled to the floor and lay there for a moment, dazed.

“Hold!” Tonks called, before Theo could press his advantage.

“I’m okay,” Elan said, trying to shake it off.

“You sure? Okay, go.”

Theo tried for an Incarceration Hex, but Elan cast a shield. It absorbed a few more spells as Elan got to his feet. He lashed back with a buffeting wind. Theo ignored the wind and cast another Slicer. Elan’s shield collapsed and he ducked under the spell.

The pair battled back and forth for another five minutes. Finally Elan was unable to dodge in time and spun to the floor.

“Done!” Tonks called. “Well done, Theo.”

Theo was breathing heavy, and he looked like he wanted to keep going. He put his wand away and went to the window seat and brought his knees up to his chin.

“I am out of practice if a snotty little sixth year can give me that much trouble,” Elan said, breathing heavily. “He’s good.”

When the meeting was over, Harry pulled Theo aside for a private chat.

“You’re out of control, mate,” Harry began.

“Why,” Theo said, his face clouding, “because I was trying to win?”

“It’s more important how you win,” Harry stressed. “Suppose that Slicer had caught her in the throat. She’d be dead in a training exercise.”

“That would make me sad.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You don’t sound very remorseful.”

“Well it didn’t actually happen, did it?” Theo jerked his arm out of Harry’s grasp.

“Keep it under control. Don’t take unnecessary chances. Be precise and deliberate in your actions. If you lose focus, you could put innocent lives in danger.”

Theo stared at him. “The Death Eaters have to die. They don’t care if innocents get hurt. There are no innocents in their minds. They’ll make us all warriors in this war when they attack us. They only way to stop them is to kill them first. When the magic is flowing through me, singing like beautiful music in my soul, there is only the enemy who confronts me. I must defeat that enemy at all costs. I will use any spell or any curse to achieve victory. War must be total.”

Harry stared right back at him. “Would you really have used an Unforgivable Curse on Tracy if you’d been deep enough in your battle trance or whatever the hell you think you’re experiencing? Can you really not distinguish between a Death Eater and one of your own friends? Are you that bloody delusional? Tell me now, Theo. Tell me now, so I can get you the professional help that you need. You sound crazy.”

“I’m not crazy. I stopped, didn’t I? A crazy person would have kept going. I only cast one more spell to be certain that the enemy isn’t playing possum.”

“Are you crazy enough to use the Unforgivables?”

“Put a Death Eater in front of me right now and find out.”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not. I’m dead serious, mate. Put a Death Eater on his knees in front of me right now, and I will execute him without hesitation. No mercy. No second chances, no reprieves. They made me kill my own father. I can certainly kill them.”

“It’s not easy to do,” Harry said quietly.

“What?” Theo’s head came around.

_ Damn, _ Harry thought.  _ Well, nothing for it now.  _

“I, uh, um, I sorta tried to, you know-”

“Out with it, Potter. What Curse did you use and on whom?”

“I tried to use the Cruciatus on Bellatrix Lestrange right after she’d murdered Laine in the Department of Mysteries. I chased her all the way up to the Atrium, where I caught up with her, and I tried to cause her as much pain as I was feeling. It fizzled out after only a moment.”

A look of vindication flashed across Theo’s face. “You should have done it again, and again after that. Or you could have just AK’d her. Kill the bitch.”

Harry’s voice was quiet as he replied. “Doing it just the once took everything I had. She deserves to die. I’m certain of that. To use the Killing Curse, though, I don’t know if I hate her that much.”

“Longbottom does. I’ve seen it in his eyes. I recognize that hate.”

“I don’t know. Neville’s a pretty good bloke. I think he wants to do what his dad would have done and arrest her. His parents were an Auror team, you remember.”

“He is a Gryffindor,” Theo conceded. “We’ll see. I’ll work on him.”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Harry ordered. “Do you really think you have what it takes to kill someone or torture them?”

“I want to think so,” Theo said. “I’m an orphan now, because of Voldemort and this whole damned bloody Death Eater thing. I hate them with all my heart. I absolutely hate them.”

“Don’t let it destroy you, though. Don’t let it hurt other people. Don’t let it hurt us. We’re your friends. You’re not alone. We’re here for you. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I can’t rely on people to do this for me." Theo's voice was rising. "I have to be able to do it.”

“You’ll have help fighting them," Harry told him firmly. "We’ll overpower them and capture them. They can face the dementors or the veil. It’s the least of what they deserve. But we don’t need to become as hate-filled as them, using such evil curses with impunity.”

“But anything else goes, right?”

“Anything else doesn’t make the soul shudder like that,” Harry said. He spoke no more on the subject.

* * *

The next day was Harry’s sixteenth birthday, and he was not spending it in a fashion that other boys did. He was going to the cemetery to visit his parents’ graves. He was both anxious and apprehensive. He felt slightly guilty that he’d not come before now, despite living with Sirius for two years. He tried to convince himself that it was going now that was important. Harry held on to Sirius’ arm as they Apparated to Godric’s Hollow.

“This way.”

They ducked around the building and strolled up the gently curving lane towards the quaint little square. As they approached, Harry saw an obelisk featured prominently. It looked like a war memorial like any of a score he’d seen on field trips in Muggle school. As they passed it, it transformed. Instead of an obelisk covered in names, there was a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother’s arms.

Harry drew closer, gazing up into his parents’ faces. He had never imagined that there would be a statue. How strange it was to see himself represented in stone, a happy baby without a scar on his forehead.

“On this spot, 31 October 1981...”

Harry stared at the house, every possible emotion roiling through him. Most of all he felt a desperate wish to somehow see his parents again. He’d had a few chances. The Mirror of Erised in his first year had shown him the clearest images. Remus had gathered old photographs into a book for him. Even in the confrontation with Voldemort in the Ministry, he’d seen their shades erupt from the evil wizard’s wand.

“I miss them,” Harry whispered.

Sirius put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Me too, Harry. Want to go see them?”

“Yes.”

They walked slowly to a kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard. Sirius opened the gate and led the way. “They’re in the back.”

Every now and then Harry recognized a surname that, like Abbott, he had met at Hogwarts. Sometimes there were several generations of the same Wizarding family represented in the graveyard: Harry could tell from the dates that it had either died out, or the current members had moved away from Godric’s Hollow. Deeper and deeper amongst the graves he went, and every time he reached a new headstone he felt a little lurch of apprehension and anticipation.

Harry slowed down to examine a particularly fine monument. He stooped down and saw, upon the lichen-spotted granite, the words ‘Kendra Dumbledore’ and, a short way down her dates of birth and death, and 'Her Daughter Ariana'. 

_ Dumbledore? _

There was also a quotation: 'Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also'.

The Dumbledore family had lived here, and part of it had died here. Harry could not help thinking that he and Dumbledore both had deep roots in this graveyard, and that Dumbledore ought to have told him so, yet he had never thought to share the connection. They could have visited the place together; for a moment Harry imagined coming here with Dumbledore, of what a bond that would have been, of how much it might have helped heal the rift between them. It might be easier to forgive him for leaving Harry with the Dursleys and not fighting harder to get Sirius a trial. But it seemed that to Dumbledore, the fact that their families lay side by side in the same graveyard had been an unimportant coincidence, irrelevant, perhaps, to the job he wanted Harry to do.

He read the words on the tombstone again.  _ Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. _ He did not understand what these words meant. 

“Here they are, Harry,” Sirius called.

Harry did not need to kneel or even approach very close to it to make out the words engraved upon it.

 

JAMES POTTER

BORN 27 MARCH 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

 

LILY POTTER

BORN 30 JANUARY 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

 

THE LAST ENEMY THAT SHALL BE DESTROYED IS DEATH

 

Harry felt a confusing jumble of emotions. He was sad, but felt as though he’d let go of some invisible burden. He felt a sense of peace and closure, but a boiling anger stirred below. He wanted to cry, but he wanted to stay strong.

“What does the epitaph mean, Sirius?” he said quietly. “Who had it put there?”

“Your mum probably had it specified in the will. It’s from the Bible. First Corinthians Fifteen Twenty-six. It describes what will happen at the end of the world after Jesus comes back. Basically he’s going to deliver the world to God and resurrect all the true believers to eternal life with Him in Heaven. It’s a message of hope.”

Harry pondered that for a long moment. “Do you believe that?”

“I believe in God,” Sirius said at last. “Beyond that I’m not too sure. I try to be my notion of a good person and hope that’ll count for enough if the time ever comes.”

“I didn’t know Mum was really religious,” Harry said. “Makes sense though. I mean, she was Muggleborn.”

“She kept her faith. She always thought magic was a gift from God. She prayed every day. She made sure you were Baptised. She could get a bit preachy at times, too. I don’t have a Galleon for every time she admonished us for foul language.”

Harry couldn’t find fault with that.

“Because wizards can do magic, many don’t find the miracles impressive. The only one that magic can’t accomplish is the Resurrection. Since we know there are ghosts, the appearances he made can be explained. Many are skeptical. We know lots of the Muggles believe. Once upon a time, there were many races of men and just as many gods. The gods of ancient Egypt have fallen out of fashion, as with the gods of the Romans, the Greeks, the Celts, the Norse, and most of the other major beliefs. Most of them were rooted in magic.”

Harry felt extremely ignorant on the subject. “The Dursleys never troubled to instruct me on matters of religion. I know they were high holiday types. They went to Saint Joseph’s.”

“Is it something you’d care to learn about?”

“Maybe once the war is won. After all, if I lose, I’ll be face to face with God soon enough anyway. I’ll ask him my questions myself. I’ve got more than a few.”

Sirius chuckled. “Stay positive.”

Harry grinned. “I’m trying. When I meet God, I’m going to have to answer for my sins, right?”

“That’s what they say.”

Harry was quiet for a moment. “I used the Cruciatus on Bellatrix. I wanted to hurt her, see her suffer.”

“No one is entirely good. How do you feel about what you did?” Sirius didn’t sound judgmental.

“I do sort of feel bad,” Harry said after mulling it over. “Not because I think she deserves anything less, but because I thought I was better than that. When I found out that Voldemort used the Unforgivable Curses on my parents and on me, I said I’d never use them. I was going to be a better wizard than that. But I’m not.”

“You are a good wizard, Harry,” Sirius reassured him. “The fact that you question what you’ve done proves it. Bellatrix would never second-guess herself. She feels no remorse for having killed Laine, I guarantee it. Remember, kiddo, I was there. I saw the whole thing. You tried to use that curse, and it didn’t work. You tried to power it with righteous anger when it requires the darkest hatred. You’re not bad, and you’re not Dark. I love you, Harry, and your parents did too.”

Sirius waved his wand, and two magnificent arrangements of flowers and berries appeared, hovering in the air. Harry knelt down and placed the flowers on each stone.

“Hi, Mum. Dad. I’m sorry I haven’t come before. I’ll try to be better about that. I hope you like the flowers. Sirius says Mum really liked orchids. There’s a spell on these so they’ll last longer. I’ll bring more next time.

Harry sat there for quite some time. It was very peaceful in the cemetery. Almost peaceful enough to forget that he was a marked man. “I miss you guys. I wish you were here now. I could really use your help.” It made no sense to him that he should want for their presence so keenly. He was a few feet from his parents’ dead bodies. Voldemort had killed them. The evil wizard was coming after him again and again, and Harry felt very vulnerable. “Voldemort’s on the move again, and I’ve got to kill him. I’m scared. He’s come really close to killing me a couple of times already.”  There was no other way the madman would have it. He could not be reasoned with or bargained with. 

“He killed my girlfriend Laine.”

Harry’s voice faltered. The death of someone so close to him, again, when he was self-aware, had shaken his soul. It could have been more of his friends, even himself. It was downright terrifying, and he yearned for his parents to comfort him and tell him things would be all right. Yet they could not. Things might not be all right. If they could be made so, then it must be at the hands of others.

“I’ve been living with Sirius. He’s really great. You chose my godfather well. We’ve been doing our best to carry on the Marauder tradition. I’m an Animagus now. My name is Chitter. It’s come in really handy on several occasions.

“Remus lives with us, and he’s getting married soon to Tonks, who is Sirius’ cousin.” He looked up at his godfather. “Did Dad ever meet her?”

“Several times. I’ll tell you later.”

Harry turned back to the graves. “We’ve been giving him a lot of ribbing about it, but I’m really happy for him. Tonks is a great bird, lots of fun. Just what he needs to keep him on his toes as he goes into his dotage,” Harry said with a smirk in Sirius’ direction. “We haven’t managed to get Sirius hitched yet, but we’re working on it. Narcissa is going to get her way sooner or later. Do you know about the Malfoys? Gosh, it’s going to take awhile if I have to fill you in on everything. I’m just going to assume you’ve been sorta watching over me to save time. Please don’t do it all the time though. Some things a bloke has to do are just private. At least from his mum and dad. Though I suppose me explaining what’s been happening lately is kinda silly.”

Harry fell silent, wondering why he was babbling. This one-sided conversation was making him look like a loony.

_ The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. _

He sat in silence with them for a moment, wishing beyond the power of a wish for a life that could have been. He could see their faces clearly in his memory, reflected in the Mirror of Erised and vivid in a thousand dreams. How he wished he could remember the scant time he’d had with them. Those memories of infancy had long since faded. Or had they? He suddenly resolved to ask Professor Snape if there were any mind arts capable of dredging up memories that old. He wanted to see them as real as he possibly could. Sirius and Remus had shared their memories with him, allowing him to see ‘James Potter’, the boy and man he’d been before becoming ‘Daddy’. It had helped a bit, but some of his father’s more prattish behaviour had worn a little thin on Harry.

They had not shown him all of the times they’d bothered Snape, of that he was certain, but they’d compiled a ‘best of’ reel to show off their own exploits, and some of it had included the future Potions Master. Most of it was adventures on full moon nights, which translated interestingly from the animal perspective. Animagi kept their human minds, so it was easy to extract the memory for viewing in a pensieve. It was wicked to be speeding along through the forest while standing absolutely still.

In the end, Harry was coming to accept that his father was only a human, only a man, and he was as capable of being a great sod as much as the next lad. Harry knew that he himself wasn’t perfect all the time either.

He wished that there might be more of his mother in their memories, but Lily and the Marauders weren’t what could rightly, objectively, or legally be called friends. Most of their memories involved teasing her in some way. Remus had a few encounters he’d shared, mostly of classwork when Professor McGonagall had partnered boys with girls to split up the Marauders and hopefully prevent their chaos-causing collaboration.

She was, of course, wrong. There were memories of that mischief too.

Lily was a nice girl, from what he could tell. She was pretty, smart, but humble. Her kind personality drew people to her. Harry thought that he might like to be friends with her.

Harry had come to know them both a bit, and that filled in the ache in his heart somewhat. At least he now had more than an idea of what they had been like. He had seen their betrayer brought to justice. He was a bit more at peace.

“Let’s head home.”

* * *

It seemed that the extended Black family was getting together a lot lately. This time it was for Harry’s 16th birthday. After dinner there was cake and presents. All around, it was a very nice time. The next night, Harry was also able to celebrate with his friends at Malfoy Manor. It was a marked contrast to last year, when they’d had to Side-Along everyone into the Shrieking Shack. Now those who could Side-Along just had to fetch one person each.

Draco and his father were still on their trip to America with Percy. There had been no word on the status of their mission. It hurt a bit that his best mate wasn’t able to be at his birthday party. Harry had grown accustomed to celebrating happy occasions with his friends. Every year they tried to make up for the years when no one had cared. Harry hoped Draco was having fun with his father, despite the serious nature of their business.

After everyone had arrived, the first thing the kids did was head directly for the swimming pool. They turned the wizarding wireless up loud and got changed into their swimming costumes.

Tracy and Pansy were still stunning. Ginny’s more conservative suit didn’t hide her attributes. Even Millie had turned into a girl, wearing a boring black two-piece. Harry noticed them all, but he couldn’t really enjoy what he was seeing. He missed Laine.

Theo whistled at Millie. “Looking good, Mills.”

She scowled at him. “Do that again and I’ll hurt you.”

“Do you promise?” he said with a slight leer.

He dove in and began doing laps on the far end. 

“Harry, will you hold him down?”

“Nice suit, Millie,” Harry said without much feeling. “You make a pretty good girl.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said with a laugh.

“Hey, are you bothering my sister, Harry?”

“Yes, Arcen, he is,” Millie said, rolling her eyes. “He’s bothering me, and I want you to defend my honour and do something about him.”

Arcen’s eyes widened as he realized just how much trouble he could be in. Harry was the Duelling Captain and could easily reduce him to a pile of organs.

“I accept your challenge,” Harry said solemnly. “I have choice of weapons. I choose water.”

“Water?” Arcen said uncertainly.

“Water,” Harry confirmed, sending a wave toward Arcen using his whole arm.

From there it was war.

When they tired of splashing, Millie suggested a game of Marco Polo. Harry had heard of this game, but Muggles surely never played like wizards. A Blinding Charm was placed on one person, who was then spun around with a Rotation Charm. From there, the seeker had to use his ears in order to locate the others. With wizard rules, there was no cheating.

“Okay, everyone,” Elan said after five rounds. “Line up for your Flotation Charms.”

“What?” Harry said, as he joined everyone at the edge of the pool.

“You’ll see.”

With a wave of Elan’s wand, Harry felt himself start to float in the water. He couldn’t capsize even if he tried.

Elan cast another Rotation Charm, this time on the pool itself. A vortex formed in the center, creating a whirlpool that carried them round and around as they floated effortlessly along.

“This is wicked,” Arcen exclaimed.

“Nice trick,” Harry said with a whoop.

The whirlpool was fun for a little while, but eventually they got bored with just laying there.

“Okay,” Pansy said. “Teams of two, boy and girl. I’m with Harry.”

“Ginny,” Theo said quickly.

“Millie,” Elan, giving her a big grin.

That left Arcen with Tracy. Neither looked happy about it, whatever they were about to be up to.

“Girls, get up on the boys’ shoulders. Try to knock the other teams into the deep end or otherwise down. Last pair standing are the winners.”

Harry had seen Muggle teenagers do this too. It didn’t appear to have a name, but it was a lot of fun.

The most successful were Elan and Millie. Theo and Ginny were about as evenly matched as Harry and Pansy. Arcen couldn’t seem to balance Tracy. They were always the first knocked into the deep end.

After several hours, everyone was hungry, so Harry decided it was time to at least eat the cake, even if the meal wasn’t fully ready. The seven children and slightly older child were laughing and joking as they changed clothes and strolled up the stairs and headed for the dining room.

“Booklists came today,” Harry said. “Anyone give it a look yet? What do you think of Professor Snape’s choice of books for Defence?”

“Snape’s teaching Defence?” Millie said. “Don’t joke like that, Harry. We can only dream so much.”

“No joke,” Harry said gleefully. “He’s in.”

Theo said, “We’ve got to be prepared for anything he throws at us. I’m going to be ready for an ambush. Constant vigilance.”

“Constant vigilance,” Ginny and Harry replied at the same time. She glanced at him and nodded.

Harry pushed open the door and came to a stunned halt. His wand was in his hand, quick as a flash. Behind him, several of the others did the same. There was a shaggy-haired man with bandy legs and bloodshot eyes wearing a stained leather overcoat. He had a satchel with him, and he was rapidly filling it with the silverware. Elan coughed.

With a crash of dropped metal, Mundungus Fletcher jumped and turned around. He tried to look innocent, which was difficult to do when one was caught with a handful of pilfered items.

“Up to no good, Dung?” Elan said pleasantly. He had not yet drawn his wand.

The wretched little man began to sputter and grasped at any chance for salvation. “Elan, how um- delightful to see you. How have you been? You know, I was saying just the other day that you’d be a tremendous asset to the Order-”

“Save it, Dung,” Elan snapped. “You’re in a great deal of trouble.”

Without warning, Dung tripped and fell to the floor. He had two house elves wrapped around his legs.

"Master Elan!" squeaked one of them. "Dobby is catching an intruder."

"Well done, Dobby," Elan said. "Master is pleased." He turned to Harry. "Bring me his wand."

"That's mine!" Dung protested as he struggled against the elves.

"Not anymore. You’ll pay dearly for attempting to steal from us. Which hand shall it be?”

“What?” Dung’s face had gone pale.

“The punishment for thievery is the confiscation of a hand,” Elan pronounced with relish. “Would you prefer to be surprised? I’ll gladly choose.”

Dung looked ready to vomit. “You can’t cut my hand off!”

Elan drew his wand at last. “I can do whatever I want. I think it will be your wand hand. You’re right-handed, yes?”

“Help!” Dung began to struggle again, but the elves held him tightly.

Harry bit his lip. What he was about to do had consequences. This would set things in motion that couldn't be changed.

"There’s something bigger than thievery at foot here. You've seen something you shouldn't have, Dung," Harry said ominously. "I'm afraid we can't let you leave intact."

"I haven't seen anything. I won't tell anybody I saw you all here. I don't know nothing about your group."

Harry pursed his lips as any chance Dung had of getting out of the situation evaporated. "The fact that you know we are a group at all tells me you heard too much."

"What are we going to do with him?" Elan wanted to know.

"Let's get Sirius,” Harry decided. “He’ll know what to do."

Sirius was chatting with Tonks, Remus, and Ted in the library. Narcissa and Andromeda likely had their heads together discussing wedding details.

“Dung?” Sirius said incredulously. “What are you doing here? There’s no Order meeting today.”

Dung fell to the floor - helped by Elan - in a pathetic heap. “Nothin’, nothin’, I swear. I never saw nothin’. Never did nothin’. Innocent of all wrong-doing.”

"He saw too much,” Harry said. “We need to modify his memory."

“A Memory Charm?” Sirius was startled.

Harry nodded. “Yes. He knows we have a group here.”

“I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’,” Dung howled.

“We caught him trying to make off with the silverware,” Elan added. “If nothing else, I’m going to cut off his hand.”

“There’s no need to resort to that, I’m sure,” Tonks said reasonably.

“Anyone here know the Memory Charm?” Sirius asked. “I never could get the hang of it.”

“I believe it’s required in the Auror Program,” Remus said innocently.

Tonks looked sceptical. “I know the charm, of course. We all need to know it in order to perform emergency modifications on Muggles. I can blank out his last few hours, but that’s it.”

“Do it,” Harry requested. “Please. We can’t take a chance on him letting anyone else know. He’s not a trustworthy sort.”

“Mister Potter, Harry,” Dung said fawningly. “You don’t even know me.”

Harry glared at the thief. “I’ve seen plenty. Save it.”

Tonks put the tip of her wand to the back of the man’s head. “ _ Obliviate! _ ”

Dung’s eyes went blank. Before they could refocus, Tonks cast a Sleeping Charm on him. He yawned hugely and began to snore.

“I’ll stick him in the garden until he wakes up,” said Elan.

They all accompanied Elan to the front doors of the manor. He raised his hand to open them, but at that moment several things happened all at once. Without any warning, Millie flew straight up into the air. She shrieked in surprise. Underneath her, on the family seal in the floor, Lucius and Draco returned with a  _ pop! _ of Apparition. Millie came floating down at perhaps a third of normal speed. Draco caught her gently.

“Are you falling for me, Millie?” he said with a smirk.

“You wish, Draco. Welcome back. You can put me down now.”

“Father!” Elan said with relief.

“Elan, what is going on?”

“A thief. He knew about our group. We just Memory Charmed him and were about to set him loose.” Elan did not quite conceal the worry that his father might not approve of his actions.

Lucius looked murderous. “I will see that he does not return.” He opened the front doors with a silent wave of his wand, then cast another Memory Charm and then a Banishing Charm. As Dung sailed away, Lucius twitched his wand to close and bar the doors once more.

“What did you erase?” Elan asked.

“All knowledge of this house. If Dumbledore wishes to keep him in the Order, he’ll have to get separate briefings.”

“Won't Dumbledore be upset with you?"

Lucius’ eyes were blazing. "I frankly don't care. I will not abide a thief at large in my house. You did well, Elan, but the job was incomplete."

"There's also the matter of other Order members,” Draco said. “Maybe we should think about banning a few more of them from the house. What do you think of Obliviating the entire Order?”

Lucius reminded his son, “I promised Dumbledore all of the support I could give him.”

“But does it have to be our home, Lucius?” Narcissa said, suddenly appearing at the top of the stairs. She began a regal descent, never taking her eyes off her husband. “Could you not buy some property and cast a Fidelius Charm on it?”

“I could. Forgive me, my dearest love. I will correct this oversight immediately.”

“I do forgive you, my love. Welcome home. Now I want my home back.”

Lucius and Narcissa went off to have a private reunion. He called back over his shoulder, “Harry, Sirius, when you’ve got a moment, I should like a private word.”

The kids were all eager to visit with Draco. They settled in the meeting room in comfortable, green velvet chairs and sipped on butterbeer.

“How was America?” Harry said.

Draco settled back and basked in being the centre of attention. “I spent most of my time with Aeryk Lochmaster on the streets of Boston.”

“Play any Quodpot while you were there?” Millie said. She had been very interested in the new sport they’d learned at the World Cup two years ago.

“I did.” Draco seemed to want to be asked about his trip.

“Nearly beat the Yanks again?” Theo said.

“Yup. I definitely learned a few new Chaser moves. I think I taught him a few in return.”

“What was the score?” Theo said suspiciously.

Draco waved his hand. “Oh, we didn’t keep score. We were playing for the sake of playing. Aeryk had his two lads. You remember Brian and Jeff?”

Harry nodded. “My shoulder still hurts from that collision with Jeff. He doesn’t look all that tough, but he’s bloody solid.”

“He’s gotten bigger. Taller, I mean. They came over pretty much every day, and then we’d go out. Sometimes we’d wander around the city. Nice little place. Any number of wizarding establishments if you know what to look for. I made the acquaintance of several comely ladies.”

Ginny raised one eyebrow. “Really, now?”

Draco looked her dead on. “I did nothing I should be ashamed of. I honestly didn’t meet many blokes. The ones I did meet weren’t very interesting. One girl, Stacy, she was the captain of their racing team.”

“How do you have a team for racing?” Arcen said. “Isn’t it pretty much a single person affair? Do you mean each house has a team?”

Draco nodded. “Each house, and Pine Manor has three, does have its own team, but there’s also a school team. They travel all over the continent to race against other schools. There are lots of individual races. Each race is worth a certain amount of points. There are other, team races where they’ll be strung in series and have to pass a baton to each other. Those are worth points for all team members. Even if one’s team loses overall, if one has the fastest time in any given segment, that also earns points. It’s very complicated.”

“Sounds it,” Tracy said. “Do you need to take Arithmancy in order to understand it?”

Draco grinned at her. “They also do inter-house and inter-school Quodpot and Quidditch. School spirit is very important to them. They take much pride from being an elite school.”

“Elite how?”

“No Muggleborns are permitted to enroll. Same as Durmstrang. There are other schools that do, but Pine Manor believes in taking only students with a certain level of knowledge already presupposed. They don’t have Flying class, for example. They assume you speak Latin, know your history, can do your sums, and so on. The curriculum is hard, but they get results. They have exchange students from all over the world.”

“Yes, that’s very interesting,” Harry said blandly. “I’m really glad my mum wouldn’t have been able to go.”

Draco took a deep breath. “It’s really no different than a school devoted entirely to Muggleborns and other kids from Muggle homes like yourself. The curricula need to be appropriate to the student body. Hogwarts has more of a mixed bag approach, which does everyone a disservice. No pureblood needs to take history, but because there are Muggleborns, we all take history. Same with Flying. I’m sure in a Muggleborns school, they wouldn’t have Muggle Studies. Separating by background just makes sense.”

“Muggle Studies is an elective, you know,” Harry pointed out.

“History isn’t,” Draco rejoindered. “I don’t want to use the word suffer, but purebloods are the ones who are affected the most. Our time is wasted.”

Harry wasn’t buying it. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating. In any case, you had fun in Flying class, and didn’t Madam Hooch tell you you’ve been gripping your broom the wrong way for years?”

Draco grimaced. “Maybe, but that’s not the point.”

Harry refused to let him off easy. “If we had that system here, you and I would never have met. Still hot on the idea?”

“Well, there is that to consider,” Draco reflected. “My life could have been so much more peaceful.”

Harry stuck out his tongue.

Before they knew it, it was time for tea. Everyone went home afterward, and Harry and Draco sat with Sirius and Lucius. Theo went back to the pool to do some more laps.

“How did the discussions go?” Harry said.

Lucius swirled the port in his glass. “Well. I was able to meet with their Secretary of Continental Security, which is a role similar to the Director of Magical Law Enforcement. It’s not exactly the same, but close enough. They have a separate department that deals with law enforcement. Their job is, obviously enough, to keep the continent secure. That encompasses concealing their existence from Muggles, their version of the Auror Corps for hunting down Dark wizards, and maintaining the spells which guard the coasts.”

“Are they going to help against Voldemort?” Harry said.

Lucius shook his head slightly. “I was able to persuade them to send an official observer.”

“They’re just going to watch?” Harry tried not to let his disappointment reflect in his voice.

“The observer will be an expert on military affairs. Dark Wizards don’t tend to last long in America. We’ve never been quite sure why. Hopefully our cousins across the pond will share their little secret with us.”

Harry didn’t hold out much hope. “Hopefully.”

“I wish I could have made an alliance. Lockhart’s foolish antics made it impossible. The Secretary brought it up three times during our conversation.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “What’s he done now?”

Lucius sighed. “He crashed a party.”

“That’s all?” Sirius said scornfully. “He’s done a lot worse than that around here.”

“It was a very important party.”

“Oh.”

“A party to celebrate the life of their esteemed Chief Justice, who has recently passed on. Lockhart accosted the justice’s daughter, was slapped by her, evaded security, accosted her again, evaded her magic, and escaped.”

“Oh dear.” Now Sirius sounded amused.

“They’re still not entirely sure how he got in,” Draco said. “They considered charging him with some fairly serious-sounding stuff.”

Harry snorted. “He deserves it, the great faker.”

Lucius continued, “So we will have no help from our allies in this regard, not yet.”

Sirius looked at Harry. “There may be some other allies we have overlooked. How good of terms are you on with Fleur Delacour?”

“The Beauxbatons Champion?” The gorgeous blonde who turned his stomach into knots? “Well enough, I suppose. Why?”

“It was suggested that we attempt to recruit some Veela for our side. Their allure would be very useful in distracting Death Eaters.”

“It probably would. I remember those ones from the World Cup.” He should. He’d nearly jumped from the top box to impress them.

“Fleur is part-Veela, you said,” Lucius inquired.

“She is. Her wand has a hair from her grandmother in it.”

“Splendid. We must investigate how close she is with her family.”

“I’ll write her a letter. Sirius, will you help me translate it into French?”

“A most excellent idea, Harry.”

Fleur hadn’t thought much of Harry being in the competition until the first task when he’d faced a dragon with the rest of the champions. There had been a cordial relationship between them afterwards.  _ I hope she’s interested in helping. _


	7. What Has Been Seen Cannot Be Unseen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Kaeso Corvinus.

Ginny did not get to spend her 15th birthday with friends. The tale unfolded during a weight-training session on the following Monday. She was dropped off at Malfoy Manor in the morning by Percy. Harry, Draco, and Theo were engaged in a three-way duel, but they took a halt as the doors opened.

“Just dashing through, I’m afraid,” Percy said apologetically. “Too many things to do, people to see, and so on.”

“How soon is the wedding?” Harry said cheekily. Lynn had gotten Percy to name a date, and he’d managed to get it in the new year, but only by a day.

“Under five months to go. It’s madness. Mother is driving me batty. I keep telling her I’m totally recovered, but she insists I’m practically an invalid. I’ve got to get back to my flat. Today, Lynn and I are looking at cakes.”

“I hope you’ll also be tasting cake.” It was the only bright spot Harry could see in all of that. 

“Probably," Percy said grimly. "I’m not overly fond of sweets. Say, Harry, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Would you stand up with me at the ceremony?”

“I’d be honoured,” Harry said with some surprise.

“Excellent. Elan is my best man. Bill, Charlie, Ginny, and you will make my party an even six. Six is a very powerful number, you know.”

“It is." He paused. "You’re having a girl in the groom’s party?”

“It’s a little untraditional, but Ginny’s very important to me. I want her up there with me.” Percy's voice was full of conviction and pride.  

“You don’t know how happy that makes me,” Ginny spoke up. “I don’t care what Mum says. I’ll do it.”

“Are you going to wear men’s robes?” Harry said.

“I haven’t decided yet. Lynn’s family isn’t happy about it at all. I might do that just to irritate them.”

“Please try not to deliberately antagonize my soon-to-be in-laws,” Percy pleaded. “I’m still trying to get them to even go along with the idea.”

“So that’s why you haven’t been coming to many meetings,” Harry said with a snicker.

“I do also have a job,” Percy said dryly. “One that I’m very eager to get back to.”

“Right,” Ginny said. “Cauldron bottoms.”

“Laugh if you want to, but when your cauldron melts in Professor Snape’s class, you’ll rue the day you mocked me, Gin. Boring reports like that keep us safe. Anyhow, my topics are a little more exciting these days.”

“Exciting?” Ginny's eyebrows rose.

“Well, not in the good way. I much prefer the boring times. But I’ve lingered too long. Must be off! Have good drills. Ginny, I’ll be back this evening to get you.”

“Take your time,” she said with a smirk.

“I love you,” Percy declared, giving her a quick, fierce hug.

Ginny smiled and gently pushed him away with both hands. “I love you too, big brother. Now pop away.”

Percy vanished without further ado, and Ginny sighed patiently. “One brush with death, and he turns all sappy.” She looked at Harry. “Good morning.”

He grinned. “Hi, Ginny. How are you?”

She sighed again, wearily. “I’ve been going mad. Last night was dreadful. In addition to my brothers, Dad has two brothers, Bertram and Calvin. Uncle Bertram has three boys, and Uncle Calvin has four. They’re all louts, so I won’t even do them the courtesy of mentioning them by name. Aunt Muriel was there. She’s mum’s aunt. She’s completely insufferable. She only came because Percy and Lynn were there. He’s always been her favourite, and she wanted to get a look at Lynn before the wedding. Mum’s hoping she can persuade Aunt Muriel to loan her goblin-made tiara. Percy is the first one of this generation to get married, after all. So far Aunt Muriel hasn’t said yes, but she will. She loves to talk about it. Supposedly it’s been in the family for hundreds of years.”

“You could have just said ‘fine’,” he said jokingly.

“Oh." She blushed. "Sorry.”

Harry waved it away. “What was so bad about the family getting together?”

“Well, nothing explicitly bad, I suppose, except having to talk with them. It’s really none of Auntie’s business if I’ve got a boyfriend or not. I couldn’t answer any question right. I tried to put her off by saying I didn’t have one. She asked me what was wrong with me. ‘You’re fifteen now, Ginevra. A girl should enjoy the attentions of a young man at that age. It’s important that he flatter and fawn and make himself a grand fool all for your sake. It means they care. Never trust a man who won’t do ignorant things even though he knows better.’ She’s a nightmare. Her dating advice was old when she was hearing it from whomever she heard it from.”

“Was that the only bad part?”

Ginny shuddered. “I did make a point of not mentioning my cousins, right? They ate most of the food. Even Ron couldn’t keep up with them. They nearly burned down dad’s shed when they went messing with stuff. We still can’t find half the chickens.”

“Sounds like a proper party,” Draco said approvingly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

She laughed. “Me too. Probably not the best idea for you though. Ron alone would have been too much to deal with.”

“Probably.”

“Fortunately Tonks is here today,” Harry noted. “She’s going to wear us out so much you won’t remember the party.”

“Oh, I wish.” Ginny rolled her eyes. 

After Pansy’s dramatic Splinching, everyone had treated the subject of Apparition with absolute seriousness. Consequently they had all mastered the skill with nothing worse than the occasional eyebrow left behind. One by one, each member of Harry’s little group arrived. After a series of stretches to warm up, they got to work.

Tonks had them in two on two duels. Between the four people, there were three different scenarios. When Tonks yelled out a number, they had to remember who they were now partnering with and make the change.

Harry had been trying to work non-verbal spellcasting into his wandwork. He had noticed that he tended to cast certain spells in certain orders. Some spells just naturally flowed better in terms of wand movements or effects, so it wasn’t entirely a bad thing. It just meant that he could get predictable. Not only was he now creating new chains of magic to keep his options open, but he was trying to make as many spells as possible non-verbal. It would make his patterns harder to decypher in combat.

Everyone was getting better. Pansy hadn’t misfired a spell in a week. Millie had found several new favourite hexes. Harry felt a sense of pride as he watched his friends engage in the art of curse and counter. They’d all improved so much. They were faster, stronger, and smarter. In a word: better.

When they were done with their group activity, it was time for more individual lessons. Sirius went with Theo and Tracy to continue their Animagus meditations. Arcen was still shaky at Apparition; Millie had Side-Alonged him that morning. Remus worked with Draco and Ginny on the Patronus Charm. Millie and Pansy continued duelling.

That left Harry and Tonks.

If Harry’s friends were going to learn Occlumency, they would need someone who could do Legilimency. Professor Snape would certainly not have enough time to teach them all, so Harry had decided he needed to learn. It was fortunate that Tonks knew the art and that Harry didn’t have to wait until school resumed in order to begin.

They sat down in comfortable chairs in the art room.

“Now, the reason I know Occlumency is because of Moody,” she explained.

“Constant vigilance,” Harry said, understanding.

Tonks grinned at him. “Needs more volume and more beration. It’s not a standard part of the Auror program, but he’s paranoid, as you know. Given the undercover missions I was likely to draw because of my high marks in disguise and concealment, I figured I’d take him up on it.”

“How was he as a teacher?” Harry was curious how the mad professor was as a mentor.

She made a face. “Bloody awful. He’d just tell me what to do, not explain how, and yell at me when I didn’t do it perfectly.”

Harry laughed. “Sounds like Professor Snape.”

“Moody’s mind is a  _ very _ devious place,” she warned. “I never knew when he might leap out of nowhere and attack me. He ambushed me with hexes on a regular basis, then he added this into the mix in my last year. I didn’t sleep for weeks at a time until I perfected my protective spells.”

Harry tried to imagine living in anticipation of ambush at any moment for days, weeks, and months at a time. It was inconceivable. “What’s it feel like when he tries to invade your mind?”

“Like you tripped and slammed your face into the pavement. That was his initial setting. Later on, it felt more like lightning in my brain.”

“Wow. I’m starting to think I had it easy.”  _ Easier with Snape. That's saying something. _

“All right,” Tonks said. “You wanted to learn Legilimency. You’re good enough at Occlumency, so you obviously know what it feels like. Just flip that around. You’re going to try to penetrate my mind.” She stopped and gave him a strong look. “It’s a pretty wild place. You might get scared. I am in the middle of planning a wedding at the moment, so I doubt I can quiet my thoughts enough to fend you off for long once we get going. It’ll be perfect for you to practice.”

Harry grimaced. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Oh yeah,” Tonks said enthusiastically. “We’re going to be really good friends after this, Harry. You’ll be like the little brother I never wanted, always in my business, forever underfoot and who tried to peep at me in the shower.”

Harry groaned.

“And to think,” she continued brightly. “You  _ asked _ for this.”

He shook his head. “Don’t remind me.”

Harry’s first attempt at the spell fizzled. He was still so disturbed by what images might be lurking under that impish, pink-haired exterior that he couldn’t focus properly.

“Do I frighten you, Harry?” She was smirking.

He flashed her a nervous, rakish grin. “Tonks, my dear, you terrify me.”

“What a sweet thing to say.”

“ _ Legilimens! _ ”

Harry felt his consciousness stretch out towards Tonks’. He could sense her clearly, but her mind was guarded. His own mind was like a tendril of light that stretched out from his head. It responded sluggishly to his thoughts. He slapped it sluggishly at Tonks’ mind, shielded by the dome of Occlumency, and he was pushed away.

Now that he understood, Harry worked on control of his mental probe. Soon enough it was moving well, like a piece of yarn in a stiff breeze. Once he’d gotten the hang of it, he was able to crash through her protections. Images flooded his mind.

There was little, pink-haired Tonks tearing through the house on a Muggle broom, miniature quaffle tucked under her arm. She jumped up, bounced on the seat of a chair in the sitting room, and threw the ball through the hula-hoop on the back of the sofa.

Harry smiled as the girl of about seven or eight years began to jump up and down and cheer. Then she tripped over the arm of the chair and went crashing to the ground. The vase on the end table tipped and smashed on the floor, spilling water and flowers everywhere. Then the memory faded as he was pushed out of Tonks’ mind.

“You were so cute. What happened?”

Without a batted eye, her face morphed into that of her younger self.

“Funny.”

“Did you want to talk or practice?”

“ _ Legilimens! _ ”

Clumsiness was definitely a theme throughout the morning. Tonks could trip over anything. She could even trip over nothing at all. Harry found himself impressed as he saw her stumble over chairs, desks, cats, rugs, where carpets met floor, where floor met floor, umbrella stands, steps, stairs, sidewalks, sticks, twigs, blades of grass, rocks, pebbles, dirt, and just about everything else imaginable. Her feet seemed to actually seek out disaster unerringly.

He saw her trip down the stairs because she was distracted by Charlie Weasley walking by in all his Quidditch gear. Charlie was another theme. She had a lot of memories of him. The most disturbing was the time she’d snuck into the Gryffindor changing room before the match ended and gotten a very nice view of him in a towel as he stepped out of the shower.

Harry broke off his probe with a shudder.

“What’s with all the Weasley?”

“Chaz?" Her eyes lit up at the fond memory. "I had the biggest crush on him. He was a year ahead of me in school, star of Gryffindor’s team, and super yummy to look at.”

“I’d have rather seen you in a towel." Harry made a face. "You said I’d see you in the shower, not some bloke.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “I’m a girl, Harry. I am attracted to men. Deal with it.”

“When did you sneak in?”  _ How painful is this going to be for me? _

“All the time,” she said with a wide smirk.

He groaned and cast the spell again.

_ “Tonks, would you like to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow with me?” Charlie was handsome and confident and oh so dreamy. _

_ She had to use her Metamorph skills to avoid blushing. “Sounds like fun. Meet me at the gates at eight.” _

_ He smiled at her "I'll be there." _

_ As Charlie walked away, Tonks thrust her arms out and twirled in place. _

_ ~~~ _

_ Charlie was holding a yellow rose when she approached. _

_ "Is that for me?" _

_ He held it out. "If you want it to be. If not, then it’s for the table.” _

_ “I want it to be for me.” She blushed a little as she took it. _

_ He held her chair as she sat down. _

Harry felt himself pushed out of Tonks’ mind.

“You finally dated him, huh?”

Tonks nodded. “That was later on in fourth year. That was his fifth year, his last. He started a relationship with me and then had the nerve to leave school.” This last was said with a hint of indignation.

“He went off to study dragons.”

She sighed. “He loves the big lizards. He’s right that they’re beautiful, but I wouldn’t want to work with them.”

Harry was very tired after the lesson, and he had an early dinner before turning in. The next morning, his head ached, but nothing nearly so bad as when he’d been learning Occlumency.

Tuesday was largely a repeat of Monday. Tonks ran the gang through exercises until lunch and then tried to defend herself from Harry’s mind.

_ A letter arrived by owl in a sunny kitchen. _

_ “Oh, Ted! It’s here!” Andromeda was bursting with excitement. _

_ “Congratulations, Nymphie!” Ted picked her up and spun her around in a great hug. _

_ Tonks giggled hysterically “Daddy, stop it!” _

_ She tore open the letter. _

_ “‘Dear Miss Tonks’ -- I like that. I’ll be Miss Tonks from now on. -- ‘I am pleased to invite you to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’ Yes! I’m in! Yes! Yes! Yes!” _

_ “Congratulations, dear!” Andromeda said, hugging her daughter. _

_ “I wonder what house I’ll be in.” _

_ “House doesn’t matter, dear. There’s good people in all of them and bad people in all of them.” _

_ “That’s true,” Ted said. “Any house will be glad to have you, Nymphie.” _

_ “Tonks,” she corrected. _

_ “What?” her father said, sounding confused. _

_ “Call me Tonks.” _

Harry started laughing, and he pulled out of Tonks’ mind.

“And that’s when I started going by my family name,” she said proudly.

“I always wondered what prompted that,” Harry admitted.

“And as you know, I was sorted to Hufflepuff.” Her proud tone was not diminished but enhanced.

Harry scratched his head. “Yeah, you don’t seem the type.”

“The type?” she said dangerously. “Okay, Harry. Tell me what you think of as the Hufflepuff type.”

Harry was fairly certain he’d be better served to just keep his mouth shut, but he was a teenager.

“Well I don’t want to speak about all Hufflepuffs, but the ones I know, which is granted only about a dozen or so, are pretty unassuming. They do well in classes but don’t excel; they play good Quidditch but don’t take the Cup. They don’t shine. I know a few of them a little better. I’ve almost dated two of them. Susan Bones got very upset at me when my name came out of the Goblet of Fire, because Cedric was the Hogwarts champion, and I was stealing attention from him. I know I caught Ernie MacMillan telling all of his friends that he was certain I was the Heir of Slytherin. That might be the truth, but I wasn’t the one siccing a basilisk on the school.”

“Being in Hufflepuff is difficult,” Tonks declared. “Nobody gives a damn about you when you’re in Hufflepuff. Even if everyone thinks you Slytherins are evil, at least they care enough to hate you. We’re not even worth that effort. It should really say something that the Goblet of Fire chose a sixth year Hufflepuff as the Hogwarts champion. We don’t have a lot of stars. We don’t shine brightly a lot of the times. That’s because our hard work, our trueness, happens in places you can’t see it. It’s what goes on in the quiet times, in the dark of night. It’s what we do when nobody’s watching.”

“Do you want to keep ranting or do you want get back to work?” Harry asked impatiently. 

“I’d like to rant some more, thank you,” Tonks said with a grin.

He rolled his eyes. “ _ Legilimens! _ ”

Seeing Tonks snogging Remus for the first time was traumatic. Seeing it two dozen more times was permanently damaging. Harry felt like a bit of a Peeping Tom intruding on all these private moments. He was very thankful that they did not appear to have crossed the line into intimacy, because he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

When the session was over, Tonks headed off for her shift. Millie and Arcen headed home. Pansy stayed for tea but left soon after.

Harry looked at Tracy. “Are you running off too?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

“Stay awhile,” Draco said. “It’s nice to spend some time with you that’s not training.”

Tracy considered it. “Okay. My folks are out on a date, and Jamie’s working. I don’t have any time I need to be home.”

“We should keep on working,” Theo said.

“Breaks and rest are important,” Harry reminded him. “If we don’t, our efficiency actually goes down. We should have some fun. What do we want to do?”

“Swimming?” Tracy wondered.

“Sauna?” Draco said.

“Lift weights?” Theo suggested. “You girls could stand to lift some weights.”

“You might want to rephrase that,” Draco suggested, noting the glare on Tracy’s face.

Theo stammered, “I- I mean, if you get into a rough and tumble brawl with a Death Eater, you should be able to fight back.”

“I’m just going to drown him,” Tracy declared. “Ginny, help me get him to the pool.”

“With pleasure.”

“We could do homework,” Harry offered. “We could read ahead for next year. I’m interested to see what the new Potions teacher has in mind for us.”

“Isn’t there a Quidditch match on tonight?” Ginny said.

“Montrose versus Holyhead,” Draco replied.

“Let’s tune in.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Me too,” Harry said.

“Me too,” Tracy agreed.

“Theo?” Draco asked.

He sighed. “I guess I could read and listen at the same time.”

“Let’s do it.”

Harry thought the Potions book was interesting, but it was old. It was likely the same book the returning Professor Slughorn had used in his previous tenure. He wondered if Slughorn had kept up with all the latest developments in the field of potionmaking. 

Draco and Ginny paid more attention to the wireless than their books. The Montrose Magpies was Draco’s favourite team, but Ginny’s was the all-witch Holyhead Harpies. They playfully shoved each other every now and then, and sometimes she’d lightly punch him in the arm. Harry swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched the couple.

The match had not finished by the time dinner was called, so they brought the wireless to the dining room with them. Lucius and Narcissa were waiting for them, and though they said nothing, their expressions of disapproval prompted Draco to turn the volume down a bit. He went over to his parents and bowed his head slightly.

“May we please continue listening to the match during dinner?”

“I don’t see why not,” Lucius said. “Just keep the rowdiness under control.”

“I want to be able to hold a conversation,” Narcissa warned.

“We’ll sit at the far end of the table.”

Elan opted to sit with his parents, so it was just the five kids absently putting food into their mouths who were intent upon the match, straining to hear the play calling.

Then one of the WBC announcers broke in. “We interrupt this match to bring you some breaking news.”

Draco instantly cranked the volume back up, and they all paid close attention.

“Death Eaters have attempted to assassinate Amelia Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement. Three Death Eaters were captured, one killed, by the director’s guards. Director Bones and her niece were taken to Saint Mungo’s for treatment of unspecified injuries. Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Division, had this to say:

A different voice cut in. “We will not let this attack go unpunished. We are going to interrogate the prisoners. We will discover who ordered this attack and where he is hiding. We will defeat him.”

The announcer was back. “This is the first time Aurors have captured Death Eaters since the abduction of Garrick Ollivander from his shop in Diagon Alley. More as it develops. Now, back to the match.”

The play calling resumed, but Harry had lost interest in Quidditch. He wasn’t hungry anymore either. He wasn’t great friends with Susan Bones, but he liked her well enough. Thinking of her laying in a hospital bed was enough to make his blood boil. He was tired of his friends getting hurt in this stupid war.

He excused himself from the table, followed by Theo. They silently headed back to the meeting room. There was work to be done.

They began to duel, doing their best to use only non-verbal magic. Silent spell-casting was getting a little bit easier for them all, and it was strange for the only sounds to be their grunts and breathing and the occasional ringing sound as spells were countered.

Before too much longer, Draco, Tracy, and Ginny appeared.

Draco informed them, “Holyhead eked out a forty point win. They came from behind thanks to an incredible catch of the snitch.”

“That’s nice,” Harry said. “Let’s get back to work, since we’re here.”

They stayed up quite late. They duelled until they were too exhausted to continue, but still Percy did not reappear. They could no longer keep their eyes open, and Draco got to his feet.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t stay awake anymore. Ginny, if you would like to stay, you’re more than welcome.”

Ginny grinned tiredly. “My mother told me that I wasn’t to travel unless it was with him, so I guess I am.”

“Want some company?” Tracy said.

“Sure. That could be fun.”

“We can style each other’s hair.”

“I’ll have the elves get a room ready for you,” Draco said. “Theo? Harry? You two want to stay too?”

“Yeah, all right,” Theo said. 

“Sure.”

Harry had another nightmare that night. As far as he could tell, Voldemort had nothing to do with it (directly). He was running through the corridors of Hogwarts, chasing after Bellatrix, who was laughing and taunting him. As he entered the Great Hall, he was suddenly back in the Exile Room just in time to watch Bellatrix blast Laine through the veil. He screamed in rage and grief, collapsing to his knees, and began to cry. He pointed his wand at her, and the Imperius Curse flashed. "Jump through it yourself!" he commanded. She did so, fading from existence. Then Harry could let himself go.

As he sobbed in his dream, he was sobbing when he awoke. Tracy was there, holding him closely. Her arms were tight and comforting. She stroked his hair, murmuring over and over again, "There, there."

When his trembling had ceased, he hugged her gratefully. "You always seem to be there when I need you. Thank you."

"What are friends for?" she said rhetorically.

He squeezed her again. "This. I feel safe with you. I always have."

She looked like she wanted to say something but merely smiled at him as he continued.

"You were the first girl I ever really got to know as a person. You helped me acclimate to the wizarding world. You're the first person who ever gave me a hug since my parents were murdered. You're the first girl who ever kissed me."

She seemed uncertain now. "Harry, I-"

“Later today, we could all die in a Floo accident," he burst out.

"Oh? Are we going somewhere?" She smiled.

He tried to calm down and clearly express what he felt. “No, but just about any random thing could happen. Death is lurking just out of sight, waiting for us all. I don’t want him to come for me and regret not being able to say things to people. You are my first in so many ways. I just wanted to tell you how special you are to me. I’m sorry for how badly I treated you during fourth year.”

“Well, I think you’re very special too, Harry,” she said, hugging him again. “I grew up on these absurd stories about The Boy Who Lived, but you’re nothing like the character in those books. The real you is so much better. I’m sorry for the way I acted.” She stopped and began to blush. “Merlin, some of the pathetic things I said. I think I even said we were destined to be together. What utter tripe. I don’t believe in tarot cards or crystal balls, so why should I believe in destiny? You make your own destiny, most times. I was acting like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away because I wasn’t getting the guy I felt I deserved just for being me. I didn’t deserve a guy like you then.”

_ What about now?  _ Harry asked silently.

“You didn’t want to be more than friends, and I understand that now.” She sounded so earnest and sincere. He couldn’t look away from her vivid blue eyes. “I couldn’t force you to want to date me except with illegal magic or morally-dubious potions, and I would never do that. Gradually I realized that my tantrum wasn’t going to work and tried get our friendship back to the way it used to be.”

“We never stopped being friends, Tracy. Even when we weren’t speaking, I still would have been there if you needed me.”

“I know,” she said with a smile. “I clung to that at first. It was what got me through some of the tears. I knew deep in my heart that I hadn’t lost you completely. Now that I’ve gotten over my crush, I’m glad to still have this. I’m glad I can be here when you need me. I do love you, Harry Potter, but I’m not  _ in _ love with you anymore.”

“I love you too, Tracy,” Harry blurted. He instantly began to feel his skin burning.

She sighed. “Now he says it,” she said ruefully.

He was so very close to pulling Tracy to him and kissing her. His pain over Laine was so sharp that he just wanted to immerse himself in the love of his first girlfriend. She wouldn’t resist him. They’d been friends before dating, and that friendship had survived their breakup. Maybe things would be better on a second try. They were both older, more mature. He knew her. She was comfortable for him, a refuge from the tumult of emotions that was tearing him apart.

But Harry knew it wouldn’t be right to use Tracy that way. Even if she was willing to give them another chance, Harry at least would be doing it for the wrong reasons. That wasn’t fair to Tracy.

He settled for hugging her, trying to convey with the strength of his arms how much he felt in his heart. She held him close, burying her face in his shoulder.

They lay there for some time, not speaking. Finally Harry felt himself getting sleepy, but he made himself get up.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t want to be disturbed,” he replied, picking up his wand. “Remember what happened last time?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Me either.” Harry performed a Locking Hex on his door, incorporating a Stunning Charm.

“Nice wandwork.”

He grinned. “Thanks. Sirius showed me those.”

They snuggled together under the blanket again. Sleep was soon upon them, and they stayed in that position until morning.

Harry woke first. He wanted to still be asleep. Tracy was pressed against him, using his arm as a pillow. They were as cosy as could be. She felt very warm and it was nice. Comforting.

She felt him moving and lifted her head. “Hi there.”

“Hi yourself.”

“How did you sleep?”

Harry grinned. “Like this.” He threw his head back on the pillow, let his jaw go slack, and allowed his tongue to loll out as he made fake snoring noises.

Tracy giggled. “And was it good sleep?”

“Much better after you came in.”

She made a happy noise. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

She yawned. “What time is it?”

“Nearly nine. We should probably get up. Everyone will be wondering where we are. What are we going to do? People know you spent the night here. My door is locked, and you’re not around. They’ll know.”

She took his face between her hands. “We did nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. If we were two years old in the same situation, people would take pictures and declare that it was cute.”

“Would they?”  _ I wouldn’t know that sort of thing. _

She smirked at him. “Besides, no one is going to know. I put a Locking Charm on my door.”

_ Always so smart.  _ “That was foresighted of you.”

Tracy giggled. “I just didn’t want to get pranked by your godfather again.”

Harry still couldn’t believe how many shades of red she had turned. “He apologized for that.”

“Yes, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t do it again,” she huffed.

“Do you want to borrow my invisibility cloak to get back to your room?”

“That’s nice of you. Walk me there? Then I can just give you the cloak back immediately.”

“Sure.”

After breakfast and baths, Tracy headed home. She squeezed Harry’s hand before she Disapparated.

After she'd gone, Percy arrived at last. His hair was wild, his clothes were rumpled, and he otherwise looked completely disheveled. 

“I’m so sorry, Ginny,” he apologized. “With the attack last night, nobody got any sleep. Have you done something with your hair?”

“That’s okay, Perce,” she said easily. “I had fun. You can leave me here anytime.”

After Ginny and Percy departed, Harry broached the subject of Occlumency with Draco. He had practiced with Tonks a few times, and he felt comfortable attempting Legilimency against someone else.

“You’re going to do what, exactly?” Draco said.

“I’m going to try to look at your memories," he explained. "It’s not mind-reading, like I’d hear your active thoughts. You’ll try to keep me out, and I’ll see what I can see.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Quiet your mind. Sink your thoughts below the surface. Your mind has a shell that can be reinforced.”

Draco looked unsure. “Let’s do it before I change my mind.”

“ _ Legilimens! _ ”

_ A seven-year-old Draco stood on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters watching his older brother go away to school for the first time. _

_ “I’ll miss you,” Draco sobbed into Elan’s chest. _

_ “I’ll miss you too, Dray-Dray. I’m not going away forever. I’ll see you at Christmas.” _

_ ~~~ _

_ Elan stood by the Christmas tree with a cup of tea in his hands and told Draco about what it was like in Slytherin. _

_ “We have a fantastic view out over the lake from our dorm room. The beds are comfortable. The baths are very stylish. Our Head of House, Professor Snape, is a lot of fun. The lads and I can do whatever we want in Potions class, and he doesn’t care. He usually takes at least twenty points off of Gryffindor before we even get to the day’s topic.” _

_ “Who are the lads?” Draco asked, eyes shining. _

_ “Oh, these gentlemen in my year. They’re all from very well-connected families. Now they’re connected to us. They saw Percy Weasley try to suck up to me, so they figured I was worth knowing. They’re good lads, smart lads. I think we’ll go far in life together.” _

_ ~~~ _

_ Draco sighed with resignation as Alice put yet another robe over his head. This was the last, she had promised. That had been five robes ago. The shop owner, Madam Malkin, brought back another boy and stood him on a stool next to Draco. He didn't look as though he belonged in this fine establishment; his clothing was baggy and shabby. Perhaps he'd needed to pass as a Muggle. The seamstress slipped a long robe over the boy's head and began to pin it up to the right length. _

_ "Hello." Draco was glad for anybody to talk to. The shop had been empty, and he'd had nothing to distract him from the tedium of a fitting. This boy was his own age from all appearances, and one could never start making connections too soon. It would be good to get to school and already know people. "Hogwarts, too?" _

_ "Yes," said the boy. _

_ "My father's next door buying my books, and mother's up the street looking at wands," said Draco, letting his boredom reflect in his voice. He would rather be at either of those two places than here in this stuffy shop. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I think I'll bully father into getting me one, and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Fat chance of bullying Father into anything. "Have you got your own broom?" _

_ "No," said the boy. _

_ "Play Quidditch at all?" Draco had been flying for years out behind Malfoy Manor. His playmates, children of his father's friends, had flown with him in many games of Quidditch. They didn't have a full seven players on each team, of course, but they could practice all of the moves at least. When the older siblings and their friends came by, a rough and tumble match nearly always ensued. The rivalry was good-natured, but no less the vicious for it. _

_ "No," said the boy again. _

_ A new player! Outstanding! But mustn't appear too eager. Maintain decorum and dignity. "I do. Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. I'll need that new broom, though. I've got a Comet Two-Sixty right now, top of the line, but it's not a professional broom by any means. I don't see why first years can't have them. It's just not fair." _

_ The boy nodded. _

_ "Know what house you'll be in yet?" Anybody who was Somebody knew the answer to that question before he so much as set foot on the Hogwarts Express. _

_ "No." _

_ This boy obviously wasn't Somebody. Still, it didn't always go according to plan. His mother's family was evidence of that. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they? But I know I'll be in Slytherin; all our family have been. Speaking of family, what's your surname?" _

_ "Oh, I'm Harry, Harry Potter. Ow!" _

_ The exclamation came as Madam Malkin missed a stroke and stabbed him with the needle. _

_ Harry Potter! _

_ Draco could barely believe his luck. Father had stressed repeatedly to him that he should seek out and befriend Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the defeater of the Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named. The whole of Britain regarded Harry Potter as a hero. He had been in exile for ten years, apparently, but his name was on the list at Hogwarts. It was very important that he be friendly towards the Malfoy family, and it was Draco's task to make it happen. _

_ "Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry dear." Madam Malkin turned to her assistant. "Imagine that, Alice, Harry Potter himself coming in to my shop for his robes." She tittered again and continued her hemming. _

_ Draco raised an eyebrow as he sized Harry up. "From all the stories they tell about you, I thought you'd be taller," he said. It was true, Harry was only a fraction taller than him. If Draco could break the ice, he would be able to turn on the Malfoy charm and have them both laughing at the world. _

_ "I'm not short!" Harry protested. _

_ Draco smirked at having provoked a reaction. The ice was broken. "Never said you were. Father told me that you were my age, but I had no idea we'd meet before getting to school. I've been looking forward to meeting you. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." _

_ He held out his hand. Harry shook it. "Nice to meet you." _

Harry broke off the spell. “That was a good day.”

“Yes, it was. I met my best mate that day, just like Elan did when he went off to school. Do you remember what the Hat sang at our Sorting? ‘Perhaps in Slytherin you’ll make your real friends.’ I definitely did.”

Harry felt a warm glow inside. “That goes triple for me. Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” Draco said wryly.

_ Draco and Ginny were walking hand in hand through the halls of Hogwarts, talking about their brothers. _

_ “If he wanted them dead, they’d be dead already,” Ginny said, trying to sound cheerful. _

_ Draco’s tone was more melancholy. “He wants them to suffer.” _

_ “They’re strong. They’ll survive it,” she said positively. _

_ His expression was dark. “Even the strong break eventually.” _

_ She squeezed his hand. “We have to be strong too.” _

_ He sighed. “I’m trying, Ginny. I’m just so scared. He’s my brother, my only brother. Without him, I wouldn’t be half so charming and debonaire. He showed me how to make friends and influence people. My father told me often how important it was, but he seldom talked about how one did it. Without Elan, I don’t think I’d have any friends.” _

Harry remembered what Draco had seen in the Mirror of Erised; himself surrounded by his friends, playing Quidditch and laughing without cares.

Harry smirked. “So Elan’s where you get your awful fashion sense from.”

Draco looked pointedly at Harry. “You’re certainly not one to judge.”

After lunch, Harry sat down with Theo. He didn’t have to explain Occlumency this time. Theo had read up on it and wanted to get right to it.

Harry cast the spell and stretched the tendril of his thoughts towards Theo’s consciousness. The basic dome wasn’t there. Theo’s mind felt totally open. Memories, thoughts, dreams, and more flashed rapidly in Harry’s brain.

_ Theo was staring at Tracy’s bum on the train in fourth year. A bedraggled kitten crawled in from a rainstorm, mewling helplessly. Reading book after book in the library. The clash of guitars as a pretty Indian girl leaned in and kissed him. A clod of mud hit him in the face, thrown by Pansy. A troll roared as Theo, Draco, and Harry made it mad. The parchment showing all top marks in first year. _

The rush was overwhelming. Harry broke off the contact and lowered his wand. His head was throbbing.

“Kreacher!” he called. 

The elf popped into the room instantly. “Yes, Master Harry?”

“Would you please bring me a Pain-Relief Potion?”

“At once, Master.” Kreacher vanished and returned in half a moment. 

Harry guzzled the blue liquid and handed back the phial. “Thank you. A glass of water?”

“Yes, Master!”

As Harry rinsed the taste of the potion out of his mouth, he realized that he hadn’t seen any images of Theo’s father. Even with the memories that should have involved him, the old wizard was completely missing.

“Theo, have you done anything to yourself?” he asked suspiciously.

“Like what?” Theo blinked. 

“Like a Memory Charm?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t remember.” He smiled wryly.

“Not funny," Harry snapped.

Theo scowled. “Well it’s not like I’d know. We all could be Memory Charmed. Maybe the world is an illusion, and every night there are Dark wizards who come out and remake us into completely different people. They set us up into various scenarios and record the results to amuse themselves.”

“That seems far-fetched.”

“I’m fine, Harry,” Theo said icily.

“It’s just that there are a few things missing that I’d expect to see.”

Theo waved his hand dismissively. “Well, I do have a lot of memories. I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

As they went on, Harry could detect no inkling that Theo had any mental protection at all. There was a hard, ultra-dense knot that Harry couldn’t penetrate, but the rest of Theo’s mind was as an open book. It was wide open except for anything to do with his father. He had shut down that part. He had sacrificed everything else in order to protect that part of himself.

Despite the potion, his head still ached when they were done. Harry took a few days off from Legilimency to recover. Being in Theo’s mind was exhausting.

When he felt better, Harry called another meeting.

Ginny handed him a dozen eggs when she arrived.

“A present from my mum, to say thank you for letting me stay overnight.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said politely. 

“Trust me on this," she urged, pressing the basket on him. "It’s better to just accept the gift than explain why it’s not required.”

“If you say so.” Harry looked down at the eggs. “Isn’t it a lot?”

“We have eggs to spare,” she said easily, as they headed for the kitchen.

“Yeah? How many chickens do you have?”

“About fifty at the moment. Mum sells eggs and meat in the village.”

“That’s a lot of chickens.” He tried to imagine Ginny in the yard, basket of chicken feed in hand, hair escaping her ponytail as fifty fluffy birds pecked at her shoes. 

“Well, a fresh clutch has just hatched. That’s always exciting. The previous clutch is about three months old now. They’re hard at work exploring the world. The flock has a fenced in area, but it’s more like a fenced  _ out  _ area just for the house. Mum has a predator-repelling charm on them. They’ll roam pretty much all over the property.”

“The little ones are okay with the big ones?” Harry had no idea about chickens, but, somehow, it almost sounded interesting. 

Ginny nodded. “The chicks are fast enough to avoid the big girls. They’re still light enough that they can fly without too much trouble. They can get into some very high places. They love to perch. One jumped from the ground to my chest, clawed her way to my shoulder, hung out there for a few minutes, and finally hopped up onto my head, where she nestled down immediately.”

Harry grinned as his mental image shifted. “You have head-chickens?”

“Apparently.”

“So the big ones go after the little ones?”

“Uh huh. You know the phrase ‘pecking order’? It comes from chickens. They have a strict hierarchy, and the littles ones disrupt it.”

Harry wondered, “Is it really so important?”

“Absolutely,” Ginny replied firmly. “The rooster is the king of the chicken yard. Next is the alpha hen, then all the other females. The other day, one of the chickens found a big grub, and the alpha was trying to get it from her. She ran all around the yard until she found a corner to hide her face in as she ate. Then one of the others found a grub, but she wasn’t as smart. She spun around in circles trying to avoid the others, and the alpha snatched it right from her beak and went to that same corner.”

“That sounds very entertaining.”

“It really is. They’re lots of fun to watch. You should come over sometime and see them.”

Harry nodded. “I really should.” He was looking forward to it. 

When they had all assembled, it was decided that they would try Occlumency again. It was Pansy's turn to try.

“Are you sure we need to learn this?” she asked hesitantly. 

“No, but why take that chance?" Harry asked philosophically. "If you ever need it, you’ll be glad for this time.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “I just wonder if I’ll even be able to do it at all. You know I’m a mediocre witch, at best.”

“Stop fishing for compliments," he said knowingly. "You’re just skilled in different areas. Weren’t you the first to catch onto Apparition?”

“Yes, but this is completely different.” She still seemed nervous.

“You’ll do fine. Ready?”

“No.”

He ignored her. “ _ Legilimens! _ ”

_ Pansy was in a field of grass. It was very flat, but not smooth. In many places the ground had been churned by the hooves of horses. Pansy and several other children was running around. Then Theo tripped and fell on his face. Pansy laughed loudest. _

_ “Shut up!” he yelled, but she only laughed harder. _

_ He grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at her. She shrieked and tried to brush it off, but she only succeeded in smearing her sundress. _

_ “You troll, Nott! This dress is brand new.” _

_ “Stop whining. It’ll come right out. Ma-gic! Ma-gic!” he taunted her. _

_ Driven beyond sanity and enraged beyond reason, she grabbed a clod of dirt and threw it at him. It struck him directly in the mouth, shutting him up momentarily. She crowed triumphantly. _

_ ~~~ _

_ She was still in the field, but she was riding on the back of a horse. With all of her riding gear, she looked very posh. Horse and rider leapt smoothly into the air, jumping the fence with seemingly no effort. _

_ Her expression was blissful and carefree. In this unguarded moment, she looked absolutely happy. _

_ ~~~ _

_ Pansy had sabotaged Parvati Patil’s potion. _

_ "Why are you causing chaos in Potions?" Draco asked, sounding cross for some reason. "Has Patil done something awful lately that I don't know about?" _

_ "Well I can't be sure, Draco. There's so much you don't know." Pansy flipped her pigtails over her shoulder. _

_ "I happen to be brilliant," Draco snapped. _

_ "You're a legend in your own mind," she said dryly. _

_ Draco didn't respond. He glared at Pansy, but he then shoved his hands in the pockets of his robes and turned to walk away. _

_ "Don't you walk away from me! Draco Malfoy, you come back here right now!" Pansy shouted, stamping her foot. _

_ Draco turned and took a couple of steps back towards Pansy. Pansy glanced over her shoulder, back towards the Potions laboratory. Patil and Brown had come out of the classroom and were walking towards the Slytherins. _

_ Pansy looked back at Draco. "You are the most brainless, thoughtless, useless git in the world!" _

_ Then she reached out, took a handful of the front of his robes, and kissed him. _

_ ~~~ _

_ “The punishment must fit the crime. You want to tease girls? You want to act like bad boys and try to get us to pay attention to you? You want to act flirty and make a move? Granted. Your punishment is kisses." _

_ "What?" Harry exclaimed. _

_ "Kisses," said Daphne. "How perfect." _

_ "One good solid smooch each, I'd say," Pansy considered. _

_ "This is insane. Let go of me immediately. I'm- I'm a prefect, and I'm going to give you all detention!" _

_ "I'm a prefect too, Harry," Pansy said with a wide smirk, "and I nullify your detentions. You're not getting out of this one. Me first." _

_ She leaned in slowly. _

_ "Pansy?" Harry said, starting to look a little panicked. "Pansy, what are you doing? What about Terry? You're not going to really kiss me, are you?" _

_ Yes, she really was. _

Harry broke contact and shook his head. What a day that had been.

Millie’s memories were about what Harry expected. He got to see every time her parents had forced her to wear a dress. Leaving Arcen at home with their parents while she escaped to Hogwarts. Being asked out by Krum. Pansy and Daphne helping her get ready for the Yule Ball. Finally, wanting to wear a dress.

Arcen’s memories were also uncomplicated. There was lots of fighting with Millie, which he mostly lost. He also had something of a crush on Ginny, and there were lots of memories of Arcen putting himself in a position to be able to watch her, but Ginny was not his only crush. It was really hard for Harry to watch as he saw Laine in Arcen’s memories. He broke off the session early and tried to meditate, clearing his mind. He was successful, but only after several tries.

The next day, Harry had his first session with Tracy. He felt a bit nervous and a bit at ease, and both emotions were because of who Tracy was to him. Her smile was very genuine, and there was trust in her eyes.

“Let’s get started,” she said.

“ _ Legilimens! _ ”

_ Tracy and Harry stepped into a secret passage in complete darkness. _

_ "Are you ready, Harry?" Tracy asked softly. _

_ "Uh huh.” _

_ There was a click, incredibly loud in the stillness, and then the floor gave way beneath his feet! _

_ Harry shouted in surprise as he fell, then he landed on a sloping slide and zoomed at high speed down to a level stop. He stood up, breath heaving in his chest. _

_ "What was that?" he demanded shakily. "Can we do it again?" _

_ "That's the secret passage," Tracy replied, just as breathless as him. "It's the fastest way down to the greenhouse." _

_ "You couldn't warn me?" _

_ "It's much more fun this way." _

_ Tracy pushed on the wall, and the wooden panel slid to the side to let them into the greenhouse. Moonlight streamed in through the glass ceiling, casting shadows that took on strange aspects. _

_ "Why are we walking through the greenhouse? I thought you hated Herbology?" Harry asked in a teasing manner. _

_ "I abhor dirt," Tracy admitted, "but greenhouses do have their uses." She reached out and plucked a strawberry. "Here." _

_ "It's not the season for this," he observed. _

_ "Gee," Tracy smirked at him. "It must be maaaaagic." _

_ "It's good," he said, taking a big bite. _

_ "I'll tell Daddy you said so." _

_ Tracy lapsed into silence. She stood leaning up against one of the tables, just watching him. He bit into the rest of his treat and swallowed it. He placed the green on the table and wiped his sticky fingers on the back of his robes. _

_ "Harry?" Tracy asked softly. "Do you think I'm pretty?" _

_ "I do," he answered with a nod. "You're one of the prettiest girls in the third year." _

_ Relief was plain on the girl's face. She let out a breath she'd been holding. "Do you ever -- think about me? Because I think about you all the time. I think you're handsome, and sweet, and kind, and noble. I think you're just wonderful, and I can't keep it to myself anymore." _

_ Tracy stepped out of the shadows. She stood very close to him, not touching, but mere inches away. She gazed up at him. There was a question there, a desperate hope swimming in her eyes. She hesitantly lifted one hand to the back of his head, slowly pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips touched. _

_ They stood there long moments, connected at the lips. _

_ Tracy broke the kiss first. She opened her eyes, catching the glint of a stray moonbeam twinkling therein. She looked anxiously at Harry, trying to read his face, to pierce through his eyes and into his soul. _

Harry pulled back from Tracy’s mind. The memory was vivid, crystal clear.

“That day was like a dream come true,” she said quietly.

“A dream I broke.”

“For good reasons. I don’t blame you. We were young, we had our fun, and we moved on. Let’s go again.”

“ _ Legilimens! _ ”

There came a torrent of images of her older sister Jamie. Shopping together and Jamie showing Tracy how to put together an outfit. Jamie helping Tracy style her hair. Jamie reading stories when Tracy was sick. Talking with Jamie all about boys when she fell in love. 

_ “Going out tonight?” Tracy said. _

_ “Yes,” Jamie replied, studying her appearance in the mirror. _

_ “Do you have a date?” _

_ “I do.” _

_ “Who?” _

_ “An old friend. I don’t think you’d remember him. His parents moved to the South Pacific before we could start at Hogwarts. He came in to Saint Mungo’s the other day, and we reconnected.” _

_ “That’s terrific. So I shouldn’t wait up?” _

_ “You can. I have to work in the morning, and I can’t be absent.” _

~~~

_ Harry and Tracy stood there for a few moments in silence. He started to blush. She smiled at him. He smiled back at her. _

_ "We can go in just a minute," she said, breaking eye contact and rummaging in her pocket. She pulled out a small bag. "I just need to do my make-up." _

_ "But your mum-" _

_ "Isn't here. I'll scrub it off before I go home, but I want to look pretty!" Tracy's declaration held a note of challenge. She also had a determined glint in her eye. _

_ Harry blurted, "But you are pretty." _

_ Tracy blushed and turned her head. "Oh, stop it," she said. _

“I got in so much trouble that night,” Tracy confessed. “Mum was waiting up for me. I didn’t do a good enough job washing my face, and I got grounded.”

“I remember. You missed the New Year’s party.”

“Yes. I pitched a fit when she told me I couldn’t go.”

“We missed you that night.”

“I missed you all too.”

At last Harry paired off with Ginny. He had known that she and Draco would snog every so often. That didn’t mean he wanted to see it. It had been bad enough seeing Tonks and Remus. Learning Legilimency certainly was educational. He was learning more than he could have ever wanted to know about all of his friends.

_ ~~~ _

_ Eight year old Ginny crept down the stairs and through the kitchen. On the clock in the living room, the hand with her name moved from ‘Sleeping’ to ‘Quidditch’. She eased the door open, slipped out, and gingerly shut the door behind her. _

_ She ran for the shed and pulled out George’s Cleansweep. She threw her leg over the shaft with practiced ease and kicked off into the air. She was a little wobbly on takeoff but soon evened out. She leaned over the handle and zoomed towards the field. The Muggles would be asleep, so she could fly high and not worry about being seen. _

_ She flew all over, dodging imaginary opponents, with a quaffle tucked under one arm. With a wind-up and a windmill throw, she scored imaginary points. _

_ ~~~ _

_ “Do you see it?” a blonde girl whispered. _

_ “See what?” Ginny said in a normal tone. _

_ “Over there.” _

_ “Where?” _

_ “There. See the jackalope?” _

_ “The what?” _

_ “Jackalope. It’s the brown thing with the horns over by the berry bush.” _

_ “I think that’s a rabbit.” _

_ “Jackalopes are part rabbit.” _

_ “I’ve never heard of them.” _

_ “And you’ve heard about all of them, is that it? I’m going to catch it and prove it to you.” _

_ “Luna, wait! _

_ The girls began running across the field, chasing the rabbit. _

Harry followed the rabbit down a hole and emerged from Ginny’s mind.

“Who was that girl?”

“Luna Lovegood. She’s one of my neighbors. She’s a fifth year Ravenclaw.”

“Going to be fifth or was fifth?”

“Going to be.”

Harry tried, but he couldn’t remember ever meeting the girl.

“Did she join the Duelling Club?”

“No, she’s not really a joiner. More of a loner, really. She was always an odd duck. Then her mum died when she was eight or nine, and she’s never been quite right since. She’s always talking about these imaginary magical creatures. Her father runs the Quibbler. Ever heard of it?”

“Once or twice. Never read it though.”

“It’s interesting. No doubt about that. It’s also completely nutters. Every crackpot theory you ever heard right there in print. I laugh every time I read it.”

“Huh.” Harry didn’t know quite what to say.

Ginny’s mind also held awful memories, Harry knew. He had saved her to the last because he knew it would be overwhelming to him. He wanted to build up his finesse so that he could partly control the flow of visions.

It was hard to watch as she was ensnared by the diary of Tom Riddle. Ginny had eventually realized what was happening and tried to rid herself of the diary, but seeing Harry with it had drawn her back into its clutches. He broke away when he saw her writing her own farewell message on the wall and then descending to the Chamber of Secrets to die.

She said nothing, just shivered and pulled her cloak tight.

“It’s all right, Harry. I trust you.”

“ _ Legilimens! _ ”

_ Ginny came awake with a sobbing gasp. Harry hurried to her side and got the air squeezed from him as she clung to him and wept. He did his best to comfort her, but she was inconsolable. Harry picked the girl up and walked out of the Chamber of Secrets. _

_ ~~~ _

_ She was fighting with Ron. On which occasion was indeterminate. _

_ “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you care at all?” _

_ “But they’re Slytherins! They’re all evil!” _

_ “They’re NOT!” _

_ “They hex me every time they get a chance!” _

_ “I almost hex you at least five times a day! Does that make me evil?” _

_ “You’re my sister! I have to look out for you.” _

_ “Yeah, you did a great job of that this year, big brother. I was turning a basilisk on the school and you thought I had a cold!” _

_ ~~~ _

_ Ginny choked back a scream as she woke from yet another nightmare. Her sheets were soaked in cold sweat; her thin pyjamas were sticky against her clammy skin. Her eyes darted fearfully around the room, but there were no giant snakes, no evil wizard. There were only the watching eyes of her roommates. _

_ "What's wrong with you?" Susan Robillard asked in a scathing voice. "Some of us would like to sleep, you know." _

_ Ginny drew her knees into her chest and did her best to keep from sobbing. _

_ "If you're going to cry like a baby, go do it someplace where they care." _

_ "Leave the freak alone, Nan. Just go to bed." _

_ “I can't, Nessa. I can't sleep when she's twitching and panting like something out of The Exorcist." _

_ "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I had a nightmare." _

_ "You're always having nightmares," Brooke Gagnon scorned. "Get some therapy." _

_ Ginny sniffled and pulled the covers up over her head. She silently sobbed her fear and frustration into the pillow. _

_ ~~~ _

_ After about five minutes of shaking and swearing, Ginny was finally able to get George to some semblance of consciousness. Together they managed to wake up Fred too. Only then did Ginny explain why she needed help. _

_ "They don't want anything to do with me," she concluded about her roommates. _

_ Fred yawned wide enough to drive a Muggle lorry through. "I'm sure you're exaggerating, Gin. Give 'em some time." _

_ "Time for what?" _

_ "You just got unpossessed last week. Your nightmares will fade soon enough, and you'll all be the best of friends before you know it." _

_ "Susan told me if I wake her up again, she's going to tie me to the bed and gag me!" _

_ "I'm sure she was just illustrating her point," George said unhelpfully. "Don't get yourself worked up over nothing." _

_ "Over nothing!" _

_ "And now," Fred announced. "I'm going back to sleep." _

_ ~~~ _

_ Mrs. Weasley poured tea and passed Ginny the cup. “Your brothers tell me you’ve been hanging around with some older boys?” _

_ Ginny rolled her eyes. “Mum, you’re so melodramatic. It’s Harry Potter and his friends.” _

_ “They are older, yes? They are boys, yes?” _

_ “Well yes, but when you say it like that, it sounds awful.” _

_ Mrs. Weasley's mouth dropped open. “You’ve been eating meals with them?” _

_ “Yeah. Nobody from my own house wants anything to do with me, and I was tired of eating alone.” _

_ “You could have sat with your brothers.” _

_ “They could have sat with me, too.” _

_ “I’ll speak to them about that, but get to these Slytherin boys. Why do they let you hang around? Weasleys are not the most popular people in that house.” _

_ “It’s amazing what Percy can do if you let him loosen up a bit. He’s friendly with Harry and asked if he’d like to be my friend too.” _

_ “But it’s not proper for a young lady to be in the company of so many boys.” _

_ “Mum, please calm down.” _

_ “Don’t you give your mother orders, Ginevra.” _

_ “I was making a request, Mum.” _

_ “I am perfectly calm. I see things very clearly. I’m sure next year things will be better. The summer holiday will cause everyone’s memory of this year to fade, and things can go back to normal in the fall.” _

“But of course things did not go back to normal,” Ginny said to Harry. “That was the year Laine befriended me.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t like any girl I’d ever met before. We only had Potions together, and we weren’t seated near each other.” She stopped and looked sharply at Harry. “Are you okay with me talking about her?”

“I can be. It is good to remember the good times. It just hurts that there won’t be any new times.”

“I know,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “She was popular, sophisticated, clever, and she wanted to be my friend. I still don’t fully understand why, but I was so grateful for her. I could have gone down into a very dark place, but she dragged me out. She made me engage the world. She helped me get over Tom and his lies. Damn, I miss her.”

“Me too,” Harry said.

They sat for several long hours, remembering Laine together. Harry felt the shadows on his heart lighten a bit. Ginny was good to talk to. Theo had discovered this, and now so did Harry.

 


	8. It's My Party

Harry was always glad to see his friends, but he was getting extremely tired of parties. He’d gradually gotten used to big crowds of people. He could make small talk with the best of them, but he hated to do it when there were so many momentous things going on in the world. Unfortunately, those important things were very depressing, and parties were supposed to be happy affairs. There was also the fact that aside from meetings of the Order of the Basilisk, there wasn’t much else for social activity aside from the odd party here and there.

Harry had never been to a “presentation” before. He hadn’t really known about Muggle traditions for teenagers, being that he hadn’t lived with the Dursleys for years. Sirius, who was normally a sink of information, had run away right before he could have been formally introduced to society.

“Terribly boring,” he said when Harry had shown him the invitation. “So many fancy society snobs, flitting around. My mother hexed me when I asked for a pub night instead. You can go, but I think I’ll pass.” 

Harry didn’t really want to go either, but Millie was a friend and he knew it would mean a lot to her if he would be there. The tomboyish Slytherin hated fancy parties, but her parents had insisted. For moral support, Harry had put on his fancy dress robes and had joined his friends at Bulstrode Estate. 

The ballroom had been decorated like a beautiful grassy meadow. The tables were transformed into bushes and the plates were transfigured to resemble flowers. Trained pixies were singing in chorus above Harry’s head. The chandelier glittered as brilliantly as the sun. Even the ceiling had been coloured a deep sky blue.

Harry had been seated with Pansy, Draco, Theo, Tracy and Ginny, which was lucky as Pansy was providing a running commentary on who the guests were, what the traditions would be, and the latest gossip. 

Mr. Bulstrode had a Ministry position, so quite a few officials were represented. In fact, Percy Weasley and his fiancée were sitting together two tables away, talking with one of Millie’s father’s friends.  Although he looked far better than he had in hospital, the young Department Head still looked pale, gaunt and exhausted.

“How is he doing?” Harry asked Ginny. 

Ginny’s smile faded.  “He moved home. Mum’s orders. Everyone fusses over him and he tries to pretend he’s fine, but he’s not fine. He still has so many old injuries he can’t ever remember getting. He has terrible nightmares. He’s burying himself in work, but it’s taking a toll on all of us.”

Harry nodded. “I can imagine.” His own nightmares were wreaking havoc with his psyche.

“Here she comes,” Pansy said excitedly as Millie and her father entered. She was wearing a light green robe with silver designs. Her hair had been twisted back and she wore a small crown of silver flowers. It was the most feminine Harry had ever seen the tomboyish young Slytherin (aside from the Yule Ball, of course). 

Everyone applauded as Mr. Bulstrode walked her down the stairs, the proudest smile on his face. Harry felt a slight tug on his heart as he realized he had no parents who would be proud of him. 

Waiting on the end of the stairs was Mrs. Bulstrode, Arcen and Millie’s younger sisters. Of course, the biggest surprise was who was waiting as well. Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker was looking quite happy, looking up at his girlfriend with pride. 

Millie and her father reached the bottom of the steps. Mr. Bulstrode kissed her cheek and released her to her boyfriend. Millie and Krum joined arms and turned to the Bulstrodes. “Now, Millie curtsies and Krum bows, to show gratitude and respect,” Pansy explained. Harry was more impressed at how elegantly Millie was moving. 

“Dear Millicent, we love you so much. You have given us so much joy. We remember you as a little girl, our sweet and adventurous firstborn. Today, we celebrate you becoming a woman,” Mrs. Bulstrode said. She and her husband raised their wands and Millie’s little crown was turned into a large tiara. 

“That’s moonstone, Millie’s birthstone. Very elegant,” Pansy commentated, looking a bit jealous. “My birthstone isn’t as nice.” 

“We present to you these gifts, to indicate your maturity,” Mr. Bulstrode said, waving his wand again.  A matching necklace and a bracelet were magicked onto Millie, who was still looking a bit frozen.

“We wish our sister so much joy and happiness,” Arcen and his two sisters recited.  They were dressed in matching clothing and looked more interested in the dessert table in the corner. “You leave us behind as children and have become a member of society. We wish you so much success. Go forth and do great honor for your family.”  The girls picked up their parents’ wands in unison and waved them in the air. 

A large table appeared in the centre of the room, filled with gifts. Harry noticed lots of books, a new pair of fur boots and matching cloak. Far better for Millie was a new broomstick.  Clearly, that was Millie’s favorite gift as her eyes didn’t leave it for a moment. 

“Now, Millie and Krum lead the first dance. Millie will then have to dance with her father and Arcen and with all the eligible males, at least once,” Pansy confirmed. 

Harry wondered how Millie would fare with such complex dancing but was pleased to see Krum leading her in a simple three count dance.

“It’s a waltz,” Pansy confirmed. “It’s good luck to dance.”

After that first dance, other couples made their way to the dancefloor. There was a small orchestra playing. It was all stuff Harry had only the slightest idea of how to dance to. He felt like he was floundering gracelessly, but his dance card was full most of the time. All of his girl friends seemed determined to keep him out on the floor. If it wasn’t Pansy, it was Tracy. If it wasn’t Tracy, it was Ginny. Ginny spent most of her time dancing with Draco, but she certainly didn’t neglect Harry. When Draco wasn’t dancing with Ginny, he was dancing with Tracy.

Harry danced with Millie a few times, but most of her attention was occupied by Viktor Krum.

Theo and Arcen sat at a table by themselves. Theo had been moody lately, and no one wanted to dance with Arcen. Harry and Draco excused themselves from the floor and joined them.

“So you look like you’re having fun,” Draco said to Theo.

“By Merlin, do you ever stop with the commentary?”

“Stop being such a wet blanket or go home.”

“I promised her I’d be here,” Theo said. “I’m staying out of everyone’s way. I’m not being a distraction to her big day.”

“I think she would welcome a distraction,” Draco said. “Last time I danced with her, she said she’s been tired of these people since about ten minutes after the music started, and we’ve been here almost three hours already.”

“What’s she going to do? Sneak out with Krum?”

“Probably,” Arcen said, not sounding happy. “She’s probably going to marry him, too.”

“Is anything along those lines in the works?” Draco said.

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.”

“We’ve already got three weddings happening before the school year is done. How many more are there going to be?” Harry said.

“Hopefully one more,” Draco said. "So what about it, Theo? You should ask Pansy out. We need to get her good and married before my father has any ideas about following up on our betrothal."

Theo considered it for a moment. "I might. Depends on whether or not she makes a move on Harry."

Harry stiffened as Draco hushed Theo.

"Too soon," Draco whispered.

"Best thing to get over the old girl is a new girl," Theo said.

Draco raised one eyebrow and cocked his head. "And you would know that how?"

Theo didn’t let Draco’s tone intimidate him. "Your brother told me."

Harry felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. He was paralysed. Laine would never see this day for herself. She would never be presented to society by her family. He would never stand at the bottom of stairs and lead her to dance. Images began to flash through his head, some remembered, others imagined.

His forehead broke out in cold sweat. His heartbeat began to accelerate. His pulse thudded in his ears like a bass drum, drowning out the orchestra. A trickle of sweat ran down between his shoulderblades, and he shuddered at the ticklish sensation. He sucked in a wheezing breath, struggling to keep his queasy stomach from rejecting the food he had so recently put in it.

Suddenly the room was too confining. The crowd of people pressed in on him too much. He needed to escape. He had to get away from everyone. He stood up, interrupting Theo and Draco’s banter. He said nothing as he hurried to the door. Once he was out of the ballroom, he began to run, not caring if anyone saw him.

He burst out of doors and took great gasping breaths of fresh air. He ran until his legs gave out under him. He crumpled to the ground by a magnificent cypress tree that was taller than the mansion. He leaned against the trunk, not even noticing as the rough bark scraped against his skin. Then he began to cry. Ragged sobs were ripped from him as hot tears coursed down his cheeks.

How long he was there, he could not say, nor did he care. A warm breeze wafted through the garden and stirred his messy hair. An ant crawled across his leg. A bunny rabbit hopped around looking for tasty things to eat. Gradually his crying stemmed.

“There he is,” Harry faintly heard Draco say.

A few moments later, his best mate sat down on the ground next to him. Harry didn’t want anyone to see him like this, and he turned away.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Theo said.

Harry didn’t respond. His shoulders were shaking. His whole body was trembling.

Draco tried. “Theo just spoke without thinking. You’d think a guy with his brains would.”

“It’s true.”

Harry had his eyes screwed shut.

"I know a little bit about death," Theo said. "I know about losing someone you care about. If you ever want to talk, I'll listen."

"Me too, Harry."

He couldn’t speak. All that came out of his throat was a dry squeak.

Thankfully Theo and Draco were smart enough to stop talking and just sit there with him. Harry finally managed to stop shaking. He lifted his head and looked at his friends, who were blurry through his tear-stained glasses.

"I'm not going to start seeing anyone yet," Harry said, his voice barely a whisper. "Laine is barely buried. I didn't even get to go to her funeral."

He couldn't just bring flowers to her grave and mourn separately. He didn't even know where she was buried. Mrs. Slater's hostility denied him even that. Left unsaid was the fact that her body had vanished through the veil. There wasn’t anything  _ to _ bury.

"Nothing we can say will make this any easier," Draco said. "I thought I'd lost my brother, and I didn't want to hear any platitudes. Laine is gone, and nothing can change that. It's going to take you time to recover from losing her. Be thankful that we don't have awful exams at the end of the year. If your marks slip a bit this year, who really cares? Do what you have to do to mourn her, Harry, and I'll back you up all the way. If you need to copy my Defence notes or my Transfiguration notes, they're yours."

Harry twitched a grin. "I'm better than you in both those subjects."

"Why so you are. When you're looking through my notes, would you mind correcting them?"

The pomposity of Draco's request finally made Harry smile. It was so utterly like his best mate to give help but gain something at the same time.

"Thanks, guys."

“So tomorrow,” Draco said, changing the subject, “I could use a hand getting the potions lab sorted. The last of my purchases finally arrived, so we can set up now.”

“You haven’t been setting up as you go?” Theo asked.

“Why would I do that? Then I might have to redo something. That’s just wasted effort. Besides, when have I had time? I’ve been doing nothing but train for war for the past two months.”

* * *

Putting the new potions lab in order took surprisingly little time. Many wands made for light work. Harry found that he quite enjoyed putting the lab together. The layout had been decided upon weeks ago, so all they had to do was fit everything into place. If they realized later that the cabinets needed to be moved around a bit, they could do so easily with magic. Once the cabinets, shelves, and benchtops had been assembled, they turned their attention to storing the supplies. 

Harry liked sorting ingredients, first by solid or liquid and then alphabetized. Certain ingredients spoiled easily, so they were in a compartment that had a preservative charm on it. 

He liked building an efficient workspace. There were half a dozen individual stations, each set up identically.  All of the tools of the potionmaker were there: metal cauldron stands, firespot, glass stirring rods, thermometers, knife block, hot plates, funnels, and more were all pristine, shiny and new.

“We should brew something,” Harry said.

“Yes,” Draco agreed. “I know just the thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Strengthening Solution. It was advanced for OWL, and if Slughorn is teaching, he might cover it.”

“That one takes days,” Theo said dismissively, waving his hand.

“I want to do a quick one so we can see how the layout is,” Harry said. “Better we find out if we need to move things around now than later.”

“That’s true,” Draco said after a moment’s consideration. “Okay, a quick potion. What’s a quick potion?”

“It’s got to be complicated though,” Theo said firmly. “We need to really test it.”

“Maybe we should all make something different,” Harry suggested.

Draco frowned. “We’re having enough trouble coming up with one potion. Now you want to triple our efforts?”

“It would test out the lab better.”

“How about a Forgetfulness potion?” Draco suggested. 

“Sure. That doesn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

“Okay.”

Harry set to work with his school notes on the potion right next to him. It was one of the first rules Professor Snape had ever taught them: Always have the procedure nearby. Reference it frequently.

“At your particularly feeble level of skill, you are best advised to follow the procedure to the letter," Snape had said. "Those who have attained a higher mastery of potionmaking have more license.”

Harry believed he was a few cuts above feeble. He was routinely in the top five in Potions in their entire yeargroup. He’d been one of the few students, Slytherin or not, who had been looking forward to Snape’s N.E.W.T.-level course.

The preparation was not particularly complicated, but it did require constant attention. Harry was able to rearrange a few things that hadn’t worked out quite like he’d planned. Nearly two hours later, he was pleased with both his potion and his work.

“Well then,” Theo said brightly. “There’s only one true way to test these.”

“So there is,” Draco said.

“What, you’re okay with this?” Harry yelped.

“We’ll take a small dose and forget who we are for a couple of hours. Sounds like a nice vacation.”

“Actually, it really does.”

Harry was tempted to forget about Laine for awhile and all the pain he felt from her loss. He knew it wasn’t a real solution to his broken heart, and he knew it would likely make things even worse, but he was still sorely tempted.

“No,” Harry said quietly. “I’m not going to forget about Laine. I owe her that. The ones we love never leave us so long as we remember them, and if I were to forget her, I’d be killing her all over again. No.”

“That’s a very good reason,” Draco said. “I don’t think I want to either anymore. I won’t kill Laine either.”

“Fine,” Theo said. “Give it to me. I'll use it on Arcen.”

“No, that’s not acceptable,” Harry said. “Messing with someone’s memories isn’t right.”

“Well how are we going to test the Forgetfulness potion?” Theo demanded.

“I don’t know!”

“Whose dumb idea was it to brew a potion we can’t test?” Draco said.

“Harry’s.”

Harry bristled. “You both agreed to it.”

Theo snorted. “That was when I thought we would test it.”

“Test it on yourself,” Draco shot back.

“Okay, I will.”

“No, you won’t,” Harry said firmly.

* * *

Harry spent Monday morning with the Order of the Basilisk. Remus and Tonks were in charge of today’s lesson, and once again it focused on combat. There were certain movements one made in combat. By stringing these movements together, a deadly dance was created. Some moves were dodges, while others were wand movements of powerful curses. Every Auror developed their own prefered combinations of spells.

They were currently working on dodging, whirling, jumping, and even flipping. With a magical boost, it was relatively easy to do a flip. It required a certain degree of athleticism that most did not possess, and it was prudent to lay a strong Cushioning Charm on the floor. It was also hot, sweaty work, and Harry was completely exhausted when they were finally allowed to rest.

“As soon as more of you rooks master the art of Apparition, we’ll begin to include that in the routines,” Tonks threatened them. “It doesn’t get easier. It gets harder.”

Well past lunch time, Tonks finally let them go clean up. The hot spray of the shower felt heavenly on Harry’s skin, and he gave serious thought to having an indulgent soak in a hot bath. His rumbling stomach persuaded him to have some food first though.

Most of the kids parted ways after lunch. Elan headed to the Ministry. Draco and Ginny went off to snog.

The only person left was Tracy.

“Hi,” she said.

“I thought you’d left earlier.”

“I was fixing my makeup.” She blushed slightly.

“You look lovely,” he assured her.

She smiled. “Walk me down to the Apparition point and take me home?”

“Sure.”

They began to walk, taking the stairs slowly.

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. I think we’re doing really well on all fronts. I wish everyone would hurry up and get the hang of this Apparition thing, but that’s too soon to expect. Oh well. I’m getting lots of practice at Side-Along.”

“You’re very good at it,” she said. “I barely feel disoriented at all. Some people, I want to sick up after travelling with them.”

“Thanks.”

“I am trying as hard as I can about Apparition," she said firmly. "I at least want to be able to do it by the time we get back to school.”

He made the obligatory face. “Speaking of that, homework all done?”

“Of course. You?”

“Yup.”

She nodded. “How are you?”

“Fine. Looking forward to this other Order meeting on Thursday. I wonder if we’re going to discuss anything that won’t put me to sleep.”

Tracy smiled wickedly.  “I wonder if the meetings of the Ministry are any more exciting or productive.”

Harry grinned. “Probably more exciting due to yelling, but still not productive.”

“That’s likely. How are you?”

He stopped walking and gave her a plaintive look. “Okay. That’s three times you’ve asked me. I’m still fine.”

She wasn’t about to be put off. “Are you really?”

“Of course.” His voice was pitched slightly higher.

Her eyes narrowed. “I think you’re lying.”

“I’d never lie to you, Tracy,” he said honestly.

“Not to me, to yourself.”

“What?” Harry was taken aback.

“You’re dodging the question. You haven’t answered it properly. You shift to other people, other situations.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. “How are  _ you _ ?”

Harry bit his lip and turned away. He was tired of being asked the question, and his flip reply had worked with everyone else, but not Tracy. She’d always been close to him, since first year. She knew him too well.

“I hurt, Tracy,” he said quietly. “Still. That party we had for Millie was great and all, but then I realized that Laine would never get to have one. She’s not going to be able to experience a lot of things. She’s never going to take her OWLs or NEWTs, or finish school. She’ll never try to find her first job out of school and deposit her first payday into her own Gringotts account. She’ll never move out of her parents house and be out on her own. She’ll never see the world and all the wonders in it. She’ll never find someone to fall in love with, marry, and start a family with. She’ll never grow old with someone and die within hours of each other and be buried side by side. She’s gone.”

“Too soon," Tracy agreed. "We all miss her, to greater or lesser degrees.”

“Do you want to know the most demented part of this? In the middle of it, I started thinking about Hermione Granger.”

“The girl from Hufflepuff killed in second year,” Tracy said, her voice distant. “I remember. I vomited in the sink when we found her.”

“She was only thirteen. She’ll miss out on all the same things Laine will and more. She didn’t even get the Yule Ball. She was the first casualty of this new war. We just didn’t realize it at the time. She was killed by Tom Riddle.”

“I never looked at it that way,” Tracy said thoughtfully.

There was a moment of silence before Harry spoke again. “I wonder what they told her parents.”

“The truth, I’m sure. No reason to hide it, and any lie would almost be the truth.”

Harry mulled that over briefly. How much sense could Muggles really have made when told their daughter had been killed by an ancient basilisk?

They began walking again. They strolled together in contemplative silence for a few moments before he changed the subject. Suddenly he didn’t want her to go. “Do you want to stay and listen to the wireless?”

If Tracy was surprised by the change in plans, she didn’t let it show. “Sure.”

Music had always been important to him. In his first year of school, he’d been a part of the Hogwarts choir. Learning to sing had been the key to getting past Fluffy, the first guardian during the quest for the Philosopher’s Stone. He’d gone out to a Wand Smasher concert before his second year and had felt hard, pounding beats reverberate in his blood and bones, giving him the urge to dance like nobody was watching. In his third year, he’d taken Tracy out to see that same band, a first date for both of them. They had danced separately and together, and he thought of that night whenever he heard the song Spellrain. Fourth year had been the Yule Ball, and he’d had fun dancing to the Weird Sisters with his dates and other female friends. Sharing music had been a way of bonding with his godfather.

He hadn’t had much time for music during his fifth year. He had missed it. He resolved to take at least a few moments here and there to remember that though he was fighting a war, it would not do to stop living life and enjoying all the things it had to offer.

The song changed, and Harry found himself thinking of Laine. Tears began to build up in his eyes.

Tracy noticed his sudden change of mood. She moved to his side and put her arms around him. He buried his head in her shoulder and cried. He seemed to do that a lot lately. He was really glad she was there to remind him that he wasn’t alone as he went through his grief.

When he felt cried-out, he gave her a final squeeze and raised his head. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and cleaned up his face as she waved her wand and cleaned her robes.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

She smiled. “What are friends for?”

* * *

The meetings of the Order of the Phoenix, never on any sort of schedule, were little more than gossip circles. Every report was about what so-and-so was up to. Harry did his best to pay attention and keep track of it all, but he kept thinking about the wand drills he wanted to run later. Elan seemed interested, but he was new to the Order. Lucius was giving some of the reports.

The Ministry still hadn’t worked out a way to keep Death Eaters out of the Ministry. To make accusations, they needed proof. Given that Sirius had been chucked into Azkaban without even a trial, Harry felt strongly that evidence should presented before convicting someone. It was hard to maintain his principle, though, when Death Eaters he’d seen with his own eyes, were walking free. Lucius’ word, given that he officially had been under the Imperius curse and knew nothing during the last war, was not enough. Some had been snared, but others were crafty. The research department had been working on a Dark Mark detector, but had still had no luck.

Azkaban, the old prison, was still in Voldemort’s hands. He had made the fortress into his home. Nothing could penetrate the Secret. Professor Snape could side-along a person, but his cover would instantly be blown and they would be cut down.

Moody had his turn. “The Death Eaters that were captured in Diagon Alley have finally talked.”

“How much were they tortured?” Dumbledore asked mutedly.

“A lot,” Moody said bluntly. “It’s hard to crack these nuts. He does it to them on purpose, so they’ll be able to resist if they’re taken prisoner. Makes our job considerably more difficult. Well, we got this canary to sing. They’ve been plotting something big for awhile now. He’s going to blow up Big Ben.”

Even wizards knew the great clock tower and took great pride in it. Relative time was a function of astronomy, and wizards had studied that for ages.

“That’s guaranteed to get the Muggles to notice. We have to stop him.” Arthur Weasley said

“Yes,” several people murmured.

“The Muggles are already starting to get suspicious,” Lucius said. “Fudge has a meeting with the Prime Minister tomorrow evening to brief him on the situation. Basically, we’re reassuring him that we have everything under control. The last thing we need is for them to stick their noses into something that’s none of their concern.”

They moved on to other matters.

Emmeline Vance had news of more deaths. “Sadly, in the night, we lost Nathan and Justine Budder and their three boys. The oldest would have gotten his Hogwarts letter next year. They were both Muggle-borns. Two days ago, we lost the Stitchers, half-bloods.”

“He’s getting bolder,” Arthur commented.

“Or more desperate,” Dedalus Diggle said.

“The Dark Mark hung in the sky over both homes,” Emmeline continued.

“And over every disaster they’ve caused,” said Hestia Jones.

They made no real progress, but they talked for several hours anyway. Finally they broke up the meeting at around midnight.

Dumbledore remained as everyone else departed. “Lucius, I wonder if I might have a moment of your time.”

“Certainly.”

Lucius won the stare-off. Dumbledore spoke first.

“When Mundungus missed the last meeting, I thought little of it at the time. However, when I saw him later, he seemed confused about the meetings. He couldn’t seem to remember where they were held. He had not been Confunded, but he was behaving precisely the way we all were when Riddle put the Fidelius on his fortress. I think you’d better show him the parchment again.”

There it was. No enquiry of what had happened, just an opinion that it should be undone.

Lucius adjusted his cloak. “No, I won’t do that, Dumbledore.”

“No?" An eyebrow raised imperceptibly. "And why not?”

“I will not abide a thief in my house,” Lucius said simply. “We have twice now caught him stealing. Note my extreme generosity in allowing him to live. He will not get a third chance.”

“Was it really necessary to modify his memory?” Dumbledore said reprovingly.

Lucius didn’t budge. “Yes.”

The headmaster was silent a moment. “I’m disappointed that you could not consult me before taking action that affects the Order.”

“My promise to help you and the Order does not extend to having my hospitality abused. I am helping in every way I can, but I will not have anyone eat out my substance. You think I had no consideration for the Order, but that is in fact why he still draws breath. I know that he is still useful to you, and for that I cannot extract the full measure that is my due. This gift I also give to you, Albus.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Thank you for sparing him. He is not a perfect man. None are.”

“You are welcome,” Lucius said graciously.

Dumbledore changed the subject. “I didn’t know you were skilled in the arts of the mind. The Memory Charm is quite difficult to master.”

“I had the notion that it might be very effective in combat. Did you know it’s not banned by Duellists International?”

The old wizard inclined his head. “An oversight, I’m sure.”

“Most certainly.”

“It was a very clean job,” Dumbledore noted. “It took me a fair amount of time to determine the root cause.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you have some time now?" Dumbledore said, as if suddenly remembering something. "I would be interested in your thoughts regarding a very interesting case I studied once.”

Lucius looked surprised at the invitation. “I would be delighted, Albus.”

* * *

The last Wednesday in August was the occasion of the full moon. The Marauders cavorted around Number Twelve as they always did. Several times they dashed by Kreacher, who was engaged in his chores. For as old as he was, the house elf was quite spry. He didn’t look happy at their antics, but since they weren’t tracking in mud, it was probably okay.

Nothing eventful happened that night. Of much more interest was Remus’ stag party of couple of days later. Harry and Sirius put it together with some help from Draco, Elan, and Theo. 

Harry remembered only bits of the party. That would be because he drank a great deal of firewhiskey. There was also a new drink that he had never heard of before called ice gin. That numbed the whole mouth and made one blow mist from one’s nose. The contrasting sensations sent Harry’s head spinning, but he had an absolutely stellar time.

He had arranged for a direct wizarding wireless connection to Wand Smasher’s studio.  Having live music was great fun. 

Harry remembered at one point there was singing. One of his favourite songs was playing, and he felt the urge to express how much he liked the song by singing along. Draco and Theo joined in, and soon Sirius did too, leaving Remus to endure their impromptu concert.

There was a great deal of bollocks talked. The inevitable pissing contests were settled with tests of manhood. For one challenge, they each had to down a shot, transfigure the empty glass into a chess piece, and fill the board. Sirius filled one whole side all by himself. Elan and Draco filled the other side. Once the board was filled, nobody was in a mood to play, so they continued with magical contests. The pieces became brightly coloured balls, and one had to keep three in the air at once. If you could do that, you got another ball. If a ball fell, you had to do a shot. 

Elan was the first one to start feeling it. He lost control of his balls and began laughing hysterically. “I’m out of this one.”

Sirius moved behind him and with a wave of his wand gave Elan a magnificent rack of antlers. They must have been magically weightless, because he didn’t seem to notice.

Sirius and Remus had a dispute at one point that could only be settled by arm wrestling. They conjured up a tall counter and stood opposite, rolling up their sleeves. They assumed the position and locked hands. Harry put his hand on top.

“Both of you relax. Ready? Set? Wait for it. Go!”

The two were evenly matched. They strained, beads of sweat popping out along with veins on their foreheads. Back and forth they wavered until Sirius slammed Remus’ hand down and thrust his arms up victoriously.

“Yeah!”

After only a couple of hours, Elan was swaying on his feet.

“I think I’m a bit dizzy,” he said.

“You snooze, you lose,” Sirius warned him.

“I can feel myself being drunk.”

Harry thought that was outrageously funny.

Elan staggered, lost his balance, twirled, and fell to the floor in a heap.

“What do we do with him?” Harry said.

“Anything we can think of. Your dad and I had arranged for some Polyjuice to be present, and when Remus passed out, we changed him into all sorts of people, put him in compromising positions, took photos, and made a killing with the blackmail.”

“Didn’t James even have a hair from Minister Bagnold?” Remus said.

“He did. You know, if she ever found out I was behind the blackmail, that might explain why I never got a trial.”

“And you said it was the perfect scheme.”

“It was.”

Elan did not get to see the antics with the cake. Though it appeared to be ordinary, albeit large, it was anything but. The cake transformed into a comely young lady who was very fit. She began to dance very dirty with Remus. They were snogging heavier than third years on their first date to Hogsmeade. Things were going just fine until she went to remove her top. Then the spell ended, and Remus was covered in frosting.

“That’s got to be the strangest spell I’ve ever seen,” Harry said.

Sirius beamed. “Glad you liked it. I used it when your dad got married too. She was a blonde with huge tracts of land, if you know what I mean. He loved your mum for everything she was, but his first girl was a blonde, and that was all he ever dated. Someday I imagine I’ll be casting it for you.”

“You first,” Harry shot back.

“Why is everyone so interested in my love life?” Sirius demanded. “I’ve got better things to do right now.”

“Yes, like transfigure cake into a dancing girl.”

“Exactly. I’m happy Moony found someone. I really am. But the honest truth is that I don’t know anyone eligible, and meeting new people is dangerous right now.”

“So get introductions. That’s what Missus Malfoy has been urging you to do.”

“There will be plenty of time for that later.”

“Did you ever respond to Rita’s niece Kristy?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?" Harry exclaimed. "She was a knock-out.”

“I don’t know. I’m just not interested in girls the way I used to be. I bet it has something to do with my time in prison. I’m sure I just need more time.”

“It’s been three years since you broke out, Padfoot,” Remus said.

“Sometimes it only feels like three days.”

“I know. You’ve got to move on, though. Create new happy memories to fill the void.”

Sirius sighed. “I’m trying, Moony. I really am trying.”

* * *

The next morning, Harry came awake and immediately regretted it. His tongue felt twice its normal size and very dried out.

“Someone please use a Severing Charm on my neck,” he croaked. Maybe then the pounding would stop.

He did not remember going to bed. In fact, he had lost track of several hours. His stomach was very queasy, and he suspected that he was still intoxicated. He swallowed a sip of water.

The roiling in his stomach got worse, and he aimed in the general direction of the bucket that someone had been kind enough to leave next to his bed.

How long he remained hovering over the bucket, Harry could not say. His sense of time was non-existent. All he could think about was how much he did not want to be in his current state. 

“Good afternoon,” came Sirius’ voice suddenly.

Harry’s reply was something between a moan and a groan.

“It’s time to play a game.”

Harry tried to process that. “A game?”

“Yes.”

“What game?”

“It’s called ‘Let’s Drink A Glass Of Water’.”

Harry tried to figure out the rules and failed. “What do I have to do?”

“You have to drink this glass of water.”

While it seemed like a smashing idea, why was this a game? “And what do I win?”

“You win another round. You get to keep playing.”

Harry’s thinking was rather fuzzy. “I get to keep playing?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“I get- I get-”

“You get another glass of water, yes. This is how you restore your body. Last night took quite a toll. You need to flush out all the toxins with pure water.”

Harry drank deeply, but a few moments later he again required the bucket as his body indeed flushed out all the toxins.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The presentation was largely written by my beta reader Elke.


	9. Professor Horace E.F. Slughorn

**** Harry and Sirius Apparated directly to Platform 9 and ¾. While Harry had argued long and hard to be able to drive the motorbike, Sirius had been adamant. “That long in the open, when they know our destination, is unwise.”

“Watch it there, Sirius,” Harry had teased. “You’re starting to sound like a Slytherin.”

“I hang around Lucius too much,” Sirius shot back. “I think it’s time for another round of pranking. It will lighten the mood.”

Harry laughed. “If you hack off Missus Malfoy, you’ll regret it.”

“Cissa needs some pranking herself,” Sirius proclaimed. “She’s far too uptight.”

“You’ll regret it,” Harry repeated injecting an “I’ll be saying ‘I told you so’ when this all goes wrong” into his tone.

The customary Apparition point was at the opposite end of the platform from the tunnel from the Muggle side of the station. Harry had only ever used that side, so seeing this part of the platform was nice. He’d never seen beyond the train, and now he could see other platforms that stretched off into the distance.

“What are those?” Harry asked.

Sirius glanced over, following Harry’s pointing finger. “The platforms? Why, those are for the other trains, of course.”

Harry was mystified. “What other trains?”

“Well, this is the Hogwarts Express, but there are other trains that go other places. The first one there is Platform Pi, often called Three and a Bit. That train loops around in a perfect circle and arrives right back here.”

Harry, who had studied Arithmancy under Professor Vector, understood many things about pi.

“That’s stellar. How about the next one?”

“Seven and a Half. It’s a long distance train that goes to wizarding only villages on the continent. It goes all the way to China.”

“The others?”

Sirius scratched his chin. “Mostly opened as needed, though I’ve heard rumors of a few platforms that are secret and one you can only get to if you have nowhere else to go.”

There was Platform 8 and ¼, which was an underwater train; 5 and ⅖, and many others.

9 and ¾ was rather empty this early. Harry knew that in about ten minutes it would get very busy. He hugged Sirius tightly.

Sirius’ voice was husky. “Have a good term. Stay safe. Stay sharp. I love you. I’ll see you on the Hogsmeade weekend or Halloween, whichever is first.”

“I love you too, Sirius. Don’t let Moony run away. Tonks is good for him. Try to keep the peace with the Malfoys. Keep an eye on Elan, please. Help him when you can. I’ll see you soon.”

“Use the mirror if you need me,” Sirius reminded him.

“I will,” Harry promised.

They released each other.

Sirius glanced around. “I’m going to go check in with the Auror in Charge.”

“Tell him I say hi.”

Sirius grinned. “I just might.”

Harry’s first order of business after getting his trunk stowed in a compartment towards the middle of the Hogwarts Express was to find his friends. He locked the door, using Arithmancy to allow only sixth year Slytherins to enter. At the next compartment, he repeated the spell for fifth years, and at the one beyond for fourth years. Now they’d have the entire car reserved for Slytherin.

Daphne and Astoria were just lifting their last trunk onto the train when Harry found them.

“Harry!” Daphne said, giving him a big hug.

“Good to see you, Daphne. How are you?”

“Hi, Harry,” said Astoria.

“I’ve got a compartment right over here,” he told the girls.

“Tally.”

Harry asked, “How are you feeling? All healed up?”

“Yeah. There was a bit of talk about not going back to school right away, but I shut that line of thought down immediately.”

“So the healers don’t think you’re ready?”

Daphne sighed. “No, it was my mum. She was pretty wrecked about what all happened. She spent weeks by my bedside. The only times she wasn’t there were when she got overwrought and needed to be sedated.”

“Is she doing better now?”

“Not really,” Daphne said, sighing again. “The first night I was home, I tried to talk to her about that Death Eater who called himself my father. She got hysterical. Dad came in to calm her down. He took her out. When he came back, he told me that whatever I’d said, I had better not say it again. Well, that was that.”

Harry was incredulous. “He didn’t want to know?”

“I don’t think he wanted to acknowledge it either. By not acknowledging it, they acknowledge it. He’s not my real father.”

“He is in all the ways that count,” Harry said quickly, thinking of Sirius.

“I know, but the way he acted that night,” Daphne said, her voice distant.

Astoria chimed in. “Hey, I don’t care if you’re my half-sister or full. You’re still my sister, and I’m here for you.”

Daphne rubbed at her eyes. “I know, Tori. I know. You’ve been a brick through all this. I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been mean to you.”

“I’ve done a few things I’m not proud of either,” Astoria said quietly. “We’re past it now. “

“Hey, Astoria,” Harry said.

“Yeah?” the younger girl said, sounding surprised that Harry was talking directly to her.

“Why don’t you hang out a bit?” he invited.

Astoria's eyes went wide. “Me?”

“Her?” Daphne echoed.

“Yeah. I didn’t see any of your friends when I did my patrol.”

“Then I should grab us a compartment.”

Harry shook his head. “You can have the one next to this one. I already put a lock on it, so it’s safe.”

“All right, then.”

They stowed Astoria’s trunk and settled in the first compartment. Harry barely knew Daphne’s little sister. Daphne had never wanted her hanging around. About all he knew about Astoria was that she was going into her fourth year and her favourite subject was Potions (like any good Slytherin). Waiting for everyone else to show up was a great time to learn more about her.

Millie and Arcen were the next to arrive. They were bickering, as they often did. She led him in by the ear, and he was swearing up a storm.

“Hi, guys,” she said. “What’s up?”

“What did he do now?” Daphne said.

“His mouth,” Millie said. “I don’t know where he learned to talk like that, but our parents would be disgusted.”

“Millie, you curse like a sailor,” Harry said.

“Oh, I don’t care about his language. I just use it as an excuse, because he deserves it.”

Arcen struggled. “Let me go!”

She flung him into a seat. He sat up, rubbing his ear, and snuck a glance around to see who was looking. Astoria was watching him piteously. He began to turn red.

After assuring Millie that Daphne was the picture of health, Theo opened the door.

“Daphne!” he said. “Thank Merlin you made it.”

“Hi, Theo. I see you’ve decided to come back to life.”

“Being dead isn’t very interesting,” he riposted.

“Good to see you,” she said softly. “Really.”

“Thanks,” he said just as quietly. “You too.”

“Where’s Draco?” Harry said.

Theo shrugged. “As soon as we got to the platform, he went off by himself. I think he went looking for Ginny.”

“Are those two still together?” Daphne said. “Who would have thought?”

“It was rather strange at first, but they work pretty well together,” Theo replied.

Daphne looked at Harry. “I heard about Laine. I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“Thank you,” he managed to say levelly. Maybe he was getting more used to it.

“How was everyone’s summer?” Daphne said in a brighter tone. “What have I missed?”

Theo, Millie, and Arcen all looked at Harry.

“Quite a bit, actually. I don’t want to repeat myself, though, so if you don’t mind?”

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you’re very serious. It was just a turn of phrase.”

“One that happens to be apt,” he said, still serious.

“I guess so.”

The platform outside got busier and gradually began to clear out as students boarded the train.

Harry stood up. He didn’t understand why he felt so restless, but he had the urge to walk, to keep moving. Being in the compartment was stifling.

“I’m going to have a look around. Maybe I can find the others.”

“Be careful,” Theo told him.

“Constant vigilance,” Harry replied.

Harry had just moved to the next car and closed the door behind him when he saw somebody he really didn’t want to see, especially just then. He suppressed a groan. Ron Weasley was one of his least favorite people. They’d agreed to try behaviour other than utter nastiness. Harry wondered how long that would last.

“Hello, Potter,” Weasley said, sounding halfway civil.

“Hello, Weasley.”

They looked at each other without words for a tense moment.

Weasley spoke first. “You keeping up with that Ministry Youth thing even though Umbridge is gone?”

“I am. You still want to be a part of it?” When charms turned to curses, Harry wanted Weasley to continue improving his skills. There was no way that Weasley would ever join Voldemort. Voldemort would kill him in the first thirty seconds of meeting him, because Weasley would run his mouth about Slytherins and Darkness. If there was one person Harry knew he could count on if the fight came to Hogwarts, it was Weasley. It was a strange feeling knowing that he could count utterly on a boy who had made himself into Harry’s enemy.

Weasley stared right at him. “Is it going to be more about duelling and less about how much Umbridge fancies the Minister?”

Despite himself, Harry grinned. “A lot more. I hope to still have Aurors come in now and then.”

Weasley nodded. “Those times were pretty cool. That Tonks was a really knockout bird.”

Harry needed to cut off that line of thought. “She’s taken.”

“Is she?” Weasley said regretfully. “That’s a shame. Who’s the lucky bloke?”

“Professor Lupin.”

Weasley blinked. “No kidding. How’d he swing that?”

“I have no idea. Maybe she likes moustaches.”

“Really?”

“I have no idea,” Harry repeated.

It was very surreal to be having a normal conversation about girls with Weasley.  There was an uncomfortable silence. Harry felt they had run out of things to say, but he really had no idea how to end a conversation with Weasley. They usually ended in cussing, hexing, and storming off.

Anything further they might have said was interrupted as a pretty dark-haired girl with a style only possible by magic entered the car. She was not yet wearing her uniform robes, and her fitted red robe was very flattering.

“Oh,” she said in surprise. “Hello, Ronald.”

“Hi,” Ron said absently. He was still eyeing Harry uncertainly.

The girl turned to Harry and smiled. “Hello. I’m Romilda Vane.” She had very white teeth, lipstick that matched her robe, and her makeup emphasized her blue eyes.

“Harry Potter,” he replied, glad for anything to extricate himself from this conversation.

“I know,” she said and turned back to Weasley. “I didn’t know you were friends with Harry Potter, Ronald.”

Weasley looked at Harry and shuddered.

“That is so fetch,” Romilda admired. “Well, I won’t intrude. Come find me later, Ronald. I have something I want to show you.”

She slipped between them, rubbing up against Weasley as she did so.

Harry used the opportunity. “Well, this has been fun, Weasley, but I’ve got to go to the prefect meeting. See you around.”

The redhead’s eyes were still glued to the door Romilda had gone through. “See you around, Potter.”

Weasley continued on his way, but he opened the door to the next car with a shout of anger.

“Get your hands off my sister’s bum!  _ Locomotor wibbly! _ ”

Draco countered the jinx and there was a crash of splintering wood.

“Ron!” Ginny shouted. “What is wrong with you?!”

“How can you let him put his hands all over you like that?” Ron roared. “Don’t you have any respect?”

“Respect for who?” Ginny said scornfully.

Ron exploded. “For me. For Mum and Dad. For the family. For yourself. Are you trying to prove something by dating the biggest scum you could find?”

Ginny's eyes flashed. “Who I date is none of your business!”

“He’s using you, Ginny!" he snapped. "And you’re not even smart enough to see it.”

Ginny drew her wand. “Back off, Ron!”

“Now you’re threatening me?” Ron said, wide-eyed. “I’m your brother. I’m looking out for you.”

“You’re trying to run my life,” she snarled. “I’m tired of it. I’ve been tired of it for a long time. I’ve told you to stop. You don’t. I don’t know how else to deal with you.”

Harry didn’t recognize the spell that Ginny cast, but the green light that blasted Ron in the face was the same colour as a bogey.

Bogeys began to crawl out of Ron’s nose. They sprouted wings and began to beat him around the head.

Harry chuckled as Ron began to shout. He continued on his way, confident that the couple could handle themselves.

He did not actually have a prefect meeting to go to. Harry planned on giving up the badge. He had sent a letter to Snape a few days ago. It had been a very difficult decision to make. He had felt incredibly out of control last year, and he needed to narrow his focus. With Voldemort taking up so much of his attention, other things had to give. A normal boy could be a prefect and a Quidditch captain. Harry, in his particular circumstances, could not. Not only was he also Duelling captain, but he had Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. He must have been completely nutters to even think he could handle it all, let alone try.

This year would be different. He would be the Duelling captain and leader of his growing Order. That would be plenty to occupy his attention outside of classes and homework. He was actually looking forward to seeing what from their lessons could be incorporated into their extracurricular activities.

He wasn’t sure who Snape would appoint as a replacement, nor did he rightly care. He was fairly sure that Draco wasn’t interested. Theo definitely didn’t care about anything that wasn’t related to killing Death Eaters. That left Crabbe, Goyle, or Zabini. The very idea of Crabbe or Goyle as prefect was one Harry and the others had laughed over before, but now it was a serious possibility. It was possible their marks weren’t high enough to give them the added responsibility that took time away from their studies. Harry had an easier time imagining Zabini wearing the green and silver badge. While it was a horrifying thought, it was logical.

After he reached the end of the train, Harry turned around and headed back to the compartment. For a few moments, at least, he could revel in doing little or nothing of consequence. There was much work to be done this year, but it didn’t have to start quite yet.

Pansy and Tracy had arrived in his absence. They were giggling with Daphne and Astoria over Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor list. Sirius Black was on top of the list. 

Crabbe was also there. He and Arcen were trading Chocolate Frog cards.

“Hi, Harry,” Pansy said. “How is it out there?”

“It’s a mob.”

“Come in. Sit down.”

No sooner had Harry closed the door than it opened again to admit Goyle.

“Goyle, good,” Harry said. “Tonight after dinner, I want to see you in the dorm.” He looked at Crabbe, Daphne and Astoria. “You as well.”

“Me? Why me?” Astoria said with puzzlement.

“It’s about what you’ve been up to this summer. Isn’t it?” Daphne said shrewdly.

“You’re quick, Daphne,” Harry said. “Yes. The train isn’t secure. The dorm is.”

“I thought you had this car all locked up tight for us,” she teased.

“Not enough for my liking.”

The compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

“See?” he said. “Anybody can just walk right in. What is it?”

“I’m supposed to deliver this to Harry P-Potter,” she faltered, as her eyes met Harry’s and she turned scarlet. She was holding out a scroll of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry took the scroll and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment. 

“What is it?” Pansy asked.

“An invitation,” said Harry.

 

Harry, 

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C. 

Sincerely, 

Professor H. E. F. Slughorn 

 

Harry wondered what the new Professor could want with him already. Perhaps he wanted to meet all the prefects. No, if that were the case, he could have gone by the prefect meeting.

"How wonderful, Harry," Pansy said. "To be invited to Professor Slughorn's little gatherings is a very big deal."

"Yeah?"

"I’ve met him before. He helped Daddy with some business right out of school, and Daddy never forgot. He’s been to dinner a number of times. I had hoped to receive an invitation myself. You must speak well of me to him."

"I always speak well of you, Pansy."

She giggled at him, and he exited the compartment. As he made his way up the train, he greeted many people. Everyone seemed to want to know if Duelling Club was going to continue. Several people wanted to talk Quidditch, but Harry referred them to Snape.

Harry knocked on the door of compartment C, and it slid open at once.

“Harry, m’boy!” said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of him so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery moustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. “Good to see you, good to see you! Come in, come in. We're just having a little gathering before we get caught up in the bustle of the castle.”

Harry was one of the first to arrive. The only other person present was Neville Longbottom. He nodded to Harry, who returned the polite gesture.

Slughorn settled back in his seat. “Neville here was just telling me about his heroics in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago. I understand you were there as well. You can fill in the parts where he’s too modest.”

Harry grinned as Neville flushed. “Gladly, sir.”

“Well, that was pretty much it, sir. It happened so fast. It’s all kind of blurry. I just remember being scared to death.”

“But you didn’t let that stop you,” Harry said. “You had my back. We worked well as a team. That’s exactly what we were trying to get at in Duelling Club.”

“Duelling Club, you say? I do seem to remember the headmaster mentioning it. A Ministry idea, I believe.”

“It’s a good idea, regardless of where the idea came from. We need to be ready.”

In short order they were joined by Cormac McLaggen (a 7th year Gryffindor who Harry knew from Quidditch), a 7th year Ravenclaw boy Harry didn’t know named Marcus Belby, a 7th year Hufflepuff girl named Melinda Bobbin, Blaise Zabini, and Ginny Weasley.

Harry nodded to Zabini. The black boy may have spent the last year sharing classes and a dorm, but Harry still didn’t know him and didn’t trust him. Ginny was a welcome sight. Now he had two friends here.

Slughorn made the introductions as he began to serve lunch. It was as Mr. Malfoy had warned: a social club entirely predicated on whom one knew and what one had done. It was utterly Slytherin behaviour, which was no surprise, considering Slughorn was a former Head of House. By introducing the well-connected to each other, one gained influence and reputation. “Old Sluggy” would forever be remembered as the one who made this or that bit of business possible.

McLaggen’s father was friendly with important Ministry people. Belby’s uncle had invented the Wolfsbane Potion, so Harry was inclined to like him (for Remus’ sake) until it was revealed that they weren’t close. Slughorn cooled on him quite rapidly and turned to Ginny.

“This young lady has the most wonderful Bat-Bogey Hex. I saw her demonstrating on a lad I believe was her brother. Caught him reading your diary, did you?”

Ginny paled at the mention of a diary, but she responded, “Something like that. Ron’s an idiot most times. He deserved it.”

“Brothers usually do,” Slughorn said sagely. “I was an only child, but I have known many people who had siblings. The rest of you are only children, yes?”

They were. Slughorn moved on to Neville. It wasn’t exactly a secret that his parents were famous Aurors who’d been casualties of the first war, but it wasn’t precisely common knowledge either.

“I’m quite proud to be their son,” Neville said evenly.

“Just so, my boy. Just so. And here’s another lad with noble parents.”

Harry really hated it when people talked about his parents, especially without consulting him first.

“I heard about your adventures at the Ministry. What a bold thing, to risk all in order to keep the enemy from obtaining a prophecy.”

Harry really didn’t want to talk about that night or all he’d lost. He nodded silently, but Slughorn kept on the subject.

“The nerve of Death Eaters striking into the heart of the Ministry!”

“They dare anything. They’re all completely insane." Harry stood. "Will you all excuse me, please? I must visit the loo.”

Harry couldn’t take being in that room anymore and he was determined not to go back. He leaned back against the wall and tried to calm his mind. Images of Laine were flashing through his head, dragging him down a dark path.

As Harry stood there trying to get his roiling emotions under control, Laine’s twin brother Lucas came slouching through. The fifth year boy hung his head low, his hair hiding his eyes.

“Hi, Lucas.”

The boy stopped and looked up at Harry. “Hey,” he said listlessly.

“I’m glad to see you. Did you get my letters this summer?” Harry hoped Lucas hadn’t just been ignoring him. If they were going to survive this loss, they needed to be able to lean on each other.

“I didn’t. Mum had it all routed to her, and she destroyed anything with your name on it.”

Harry wished he found that news surprising. “Yeah? She’s unhappy with me?”

“She’s never liked you. I’m not sure why. She’s really torn up about Laine and has been acting without logic.”

That was the opening Harry needed. “Are you interested in a little advanced Defence training this year?”

Lucas grunted. “Maybe advanced Offence.”

“I’m sure something could be arranged.”

“They killed her, Harry,” Lucas said, his voice empty. “They killed my twin. They killed my other half. I went insane this summer. I’m think I’m back now, but I have been known to make mistakes from time to time. I want to hurt them, Harry. The ones who drew you all there, the ones who helped Bellatrix Lestrange kill my sister, are going to die.”

Harry privately thought that Neville would have a contrary opinion about who got to kill Bellatrix.

“Join the Duelling Club, but there’s also another group where the rules are a little more lax.”

Lucas didn’t hesitate. “I’m in. When do we meet?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“You do that," Lucas said sharply. "Blood calls for blood. I intend to answer.”

As Lucas walked away, Harry realized that he might be even more damaged than Harry himself was. That wasn’t unreasonable, but it did mean that Harry would have to be very delicate in how he handled the younger boy.

As he watched Lucas go, Samantha Warrington, the seventh year prefect from Slytherin, approached Harry.

“Hey, Harry. Where have you been? We missed you at the prefect meeting.”

“I’m not a prefect anymore.”

“That’s news to me. Does Snape know?”

Harry nodded. “I sent him a letter.”

“Who’s the replacement?”

“I don’t know.” Nor did he care.

“How come you gave it up?”

“Lots of reasons.”

She quirked an eyebrow at that but made no further inquiry. “The common room password is presently ‘amazing amalgamation’, but tomorrow morning it will be changed to ‘magic makes us’.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

* * *

 

Harry barely paid attention to the Sorting. He wasn’t a prefect anymore, so he wasn’t going to be responsible for the ickle firsties. He knew he was going to sit in on their orientation in his capacity as Duelling Captain, but that was the extent of his involvement with them. The Hat sang something about the four houses coming together and standing against evil, which they were already doing. The Duelling Club was evidence of that.

After the Sorting was the feast, and Harry found himself ravenous. He took a third helping of everything and still managed two pieces of treacle tart.

“The very best of evenings to you!” Dumbledore said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room. 

Harry’s attention was riveted by Dumbledore’s right hand, which was blackened, dead-looking, and shriveled; it looked as though his flesh had been burned away. 

Whispers lit the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury. 

“Nothing to worry about,” he said airily. “Now…to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you…” 

“It looks as if it’s died,” said Tracy, with a nauseated expression. 

“…and Mister Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke item under the brand of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. 

“Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. 

“We are pleased to welcome two new members of staff this year. Journeyman Healer Jamie Davis will be joining Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing this term. Apprenticeship under a different instructor is the last phase of her training program. If she performs well, she will graduate to full Master herself. I know we all wish her the best of luck. Professor Slughorn”— Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table into shadow — “is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master.” 

“Potions?” 

“Potions?” 

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right. 

“Professor Snape, meanwhile,” said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, “will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” 

“Yes!” said Lucas, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction.

Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore’s right, did not stand up at this mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Harry was sure he could detect a look of triumph on his features. 

“This isn’t the good news we think it is,” Tracy said.

“Why not?” Crabbe said. “He’s going to be great at it.”

“But the curse. Everyone knows the job is jinxed.”

Crabbe's face fell. “Oh yeah.”

“Professor Quirrell actually died,” Tracy continued.

“I’d forgotten.”

“He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year,” said Draco calmly. “Moody didn’t want to stay permanently. He did the job for only a year and got out okay.”

“Yeah, but the war started, and he went back to the Aurors. I’d say that counts.”

The Great Hall was buzzing. Snape had just gotten his long-known dream job. He had applied for the position every year. Why now had Dumbledore granted his wish?

Dumbledore let them talk for a few moments before clearing his throat. He waited for absolute silence before continuing.

“The so-called Lord Voldemort, once known as Tom Riddle, is once more at large and gaining followers. His strength grows, and the world is a dangerous place. Our defences at Hogwarts have never been stronger. We have strengthened our magical protections, have added nasty countermeasures, and have increased our surveillance capabilities. Yet we must continue to maintain personal vigilance against carelessness on the part of student and staff. The new measures and rules are for your protection. I urge you in the strongest possible terms to listen to your teachers and prefects and abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of the common rooms after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others’ safety.” 

Dumbledore’s blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more. 

“But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!” 

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories. 

Pansy said, “Let’s go, Harry. We’ve got a job to do.”

“You do. I’m not a prefect anymore.” Harry wondered when people would believe him.

She scowled. “I wasn’t notified.”

“Sorry.”

“You can’t just dump all the responsibility on me,” she declared. “Until I see someone else wearing that silver and green badge, you’re still it.”

Harry helped Pansy herd the firsties to the common room -- not because he was still a prefect but because they were all going to the same place. Their orientation meeting would be held in the morning before breakfast, and they were all sent off to bed. The older students weren’t all that far behind.

Harry called his friends together in the sixth year boys’ dorm. The only one of the sixth years not present was Zabini, who was presently chatting up Michelle Holt in the common room. Harry locked the door.

“Tonight we welcome new members to our circle,” he said solemnly. “We gather in the name of Salazar Slytherin, that our Founder’s spirit may be with us as we restore his vision of what our house stands for. Ability is what counts here. We value ambition, cunning, determination, and success. We cherish magic and the fine art that it is.

“We have taken a stand against Tom Riddle, who has long styled himself Lord Voldemort. He’s out to destroy the world, and we won’t let him. We will not stop our fight until he is really and permanently dead. We’ll kill him and any who stand with him.”

Harry hadn’t given any thought at all as to how they should formalize the admittance of new members to their circle, so he settled on very simple. He placed his right hand over his heart and said, “To you, my brothers and sisters, I swear to fight the evil monster Voldemort with every fibre of my being.”

Daphne, Astoria, Lucas, Crabbe, and Goyle repeated the oath along with the rest of the Order. There was no magical display, no explosion of light, just a dozen people standing in a room, swearing to a common cause. He used the scary name purposefully, hoping that making them say it would weaken the terror it induced. Several of them still had trouble, but that’s what a lifetime of indoctrination would achieve.

“We’ll be having meetings separate from the Duelling Club meetings. I’ll be more open then. For now, thank you all.” He looked around, his heart in his eyes. “I had nobody while I was growing up. I was all alone in a world of Muggles. Here at Hogwarts, in Slytherin, I’ve found my real friends. To see you all here willing to take a stand with me means so much I can’t even put it into words. Thank you.”

Harry stopped talking before he got too choked up to speak. Tracy came over and enveloped him. Several other people came over and patted him on the shoulders, but he couldn’t see who. He took a deep breath, got control of himself, and lifted his head from Tracy’s shoulder.

Gradually the girls and younger boys left, and the boys began to get ready for bed.

“That’s almost everyone we want for now, isn’t it?” Draco said.

“As far as students goes.”

“What about staff?”

Theo grunted. “You know, we really should have sucked up to Madam Pince. Imagine how useful the Restricted Section would be to us this year.”

“Live and learn,” Harry said. “You never know who could be useful.”

“You said you wanted to invite Professor Snape?” Draco said.

“Yes. I’ll speak to him after the first class. Who else on the staff was in Slytherin?”

“Just Vector, I think.”

“She’s already helped me out once before,” Harry recalled. “When’s Arithmancy?”

Before anyone could answer him, there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Draco called.

“Professor Snape is in the common room. He’s asking for Harry.”

“Be right there.”

Harry was irritated. He’d already gotten ready for bed and did not want to put on his trousers again. He pulled on a dressing gown, shoved his feet into his slippers, and went to see what his Head of House wanted.

Snape always looked imposing. He’d cultivated the image for so long that it was second nature to him now. Harry knew he wasn’t as fierce as he pretended to be, but there was more than a few shades of truth to the posture. He removed an item from his pocket.

“I was greatly disturbed to receive this badge back from you.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I just don’t think I can do it this year.”

“You made it through last year.”

“Barely,” Harry noted. “I tried to do too much. I couldn’t keep track of my responsibilities. I had too much on my plate. I need to focus my energies. Duelling captain is enough for me.”

“I agree that sport is superfluous, but surely the authority and prestige you wield as a prefect would be useful to you.”

“It’s not worth the hassle. Diggory’s meetings could put bricks to sleep.”

“Perhaps Davies’ meetings will be better,” Snape suggested.

“Somehow I really doubt it, sir.”

Snape inclined his head. “I cannot, of course, force you to accept the badge. What can I do to persuade you?”

“My top priority is the Duelling Club. I’ve got to do everything I can to make sure we’re ready when the war comes to us here. I don’t want to have to go to the stupid prefect meetings where all we do is rehash the same stupid things over and over. There are much more important things going on than worrying if a third year has a fanged frisbee.”

“No meetings,” Snape agreed. “What else?”

“I know sixth years are the ones who look out for the first years, but I really don’t have the time. Pansy will do a great job.”

“Perhaps if we instruct the first years that Miss Parkinson is their preferred prefect?” Snape offered.

“That would help.” Harry considered for a moment. “If I feel stretched too thin this year, I’ll give you back this badge.”

“You must do what is best for you, of course.”

“Thank for understanding, sir.”

“Good night, Mister Potter.”

“Good night, sir.”

When Harry returned to the dorm, Zabini had graced them with his presence.

“Good evening, Hair.”

Harry sighed. “Zabini, if you keep calling me that, or any of us any of these ridiculous names you came up with last year, I swear to Merlin, I’m going to hex your tongue out.”

“No less tetchy, I see.”

Harry swallowed his urge to punch the other boy. “Why,” he asked, “do you talk to me?”

“I’m not allowed to talk to you now?” Zabini said, dumbfounded. “You really are a snob, aren’t you, Potter?”

“I don’t have time for you. There is too much going on right now for me to worry about your hurt feelings because I’m not interested in making a new best mate.”

“What the bloody hell is going on?”

“None of your sodding business! Why can’t you accept that?” Harry whipped out his wand. “I warned you, Zabini. Now, I’m telling you. Or rather, I’m not telling you.” Harry knew he had oodles of motivation, and he performed a silent Silencing Charm.

The non-verbal magic took Zabini completely by surprise as he opened his mouth and no sound came out. He began to rant at Harry, looking entirely entertaining without the audio. He glared at Harry, took a glance around the room, and threw himself on his bed. He took out his own wand and began trying to perform the counter non-verbally.

“Good luck with that,” Harry said.

Zabini gave him a hand gesture that needed no words.

* * *

 

The orientation of the first years took place early the next morning before breakfast. Harry yawned as he came awake, wishing he could have another forty winks.

The first years were small and anxious. David Palce, a seventh year prefect, put them at ease.

“Good morning. Welcome to Slytherin. You are in the Serpent’s Lair, our common room. This is a place where you are all safe from the outside world. Slytherins view the world a little differently, and here is where you’ll find your true friends. I am David Palce. This is Samantha Warrington. We are the seventh years. Don’t bug us unless it’s a matter of life or death. We have NEWTs in eight months, and we’re not ready.”

“That goes for us too,” said Jeremiah Goodwinter. “Sarrah and I have OWLs. Please talk to the sixth years first.”

“That’s us. Good morning, firsties. I’m Pansy Parkinson. I’m really looking forward to getting to know you guys. I’ll be around to take you to your first classes, to provide directions anywhere in the castle, to help with homework, and anything you might need. I want you to think of me as a big sister. I’m a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, and a great giver of advice.”

“And modest,” Samantha said.

“And modest,” Pansy agreed. “This is the other sixth year prefect, Harry Potter.”

“Good morning,” Harry said. “I am a prefect, but I am also Captain of the Duelling Club. I have a number of responsibilities beyond those of the other prefects. If you need a prefect, I encourage you to speak with Pansy first. I’ll absolutely be there if you need me, but I ask you to please make it for serious matters only. I’m not trying to be a jerk, but I’m very busy with my other duties. Can you guys do that for me?”

They all nodded and gave vocal affirmation.

“Now then, the Duelling Club. It is only open to all students third year and up. We don’t want any firsties getting hurt. I will have a few of the better members run some drills with the younger students. It’ll be a place to practice your spells and get help if you need it. I encourage you all to attend.”

“Now, everyone go get your books and such, and we’ll head up to breakfast.”

They filed out.

“Well done, all,” David said. “Pansy, I really think they responded to you. Nice call for them to think of you as a big sister.”

“I’ve always wanted younger siblings.”

“You’ll take charge of them after breakfast.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The whole group made its way along the twisted route back up to the castle. It was the route that required no secret passages. There would be plenty of time to teach them the shortcuts later.

Professor Snape was waiting for them at the steps leading up to the castle proper. He had several scrolls with him. He tossed one on the floor and cast a Replication Charm. Now each first year had a copy. He handed David a scrollcase.

“First years, I am Professor Snape, your Head of House. You are about to take your first steps into the world of magic. I urge you all to be a credit to your family and to your house. I do not suffer fools or timewasters or idiots. If you sincerely desire to learn, then you will find me considerably more patient. Follow me.”

Snape turned and led the excited first years into the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in those other train platforms, please check out shewhoguards' fic, [Platform i](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3848700/1/Platform-i)


	10. Expanding the Mind

Harry was surprised to see Weasley arrive at the Potions dungeon.  _ He suffered through five years with Professor Snape. Why on Earth didn’t he drop it when he had the chance? _ He was the sole representative from Gryffindor. There was no opportunity to inquire as the dungeon door opened on silent hinges.

Professor Snape liked the ominous creaking and had instructed Filch to never oil the door. Professor Slughorn was much more warm and inviting. His great belly preceded him out of the door, but he was all smiles as they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth.

“Harry, my boy, good to see you. Zabini, good morning.” He was cheerful enough for the charm. 

“Good morning, Professor,” Zabini returned. Draco mocked him, waggling his head back and forth in a simpering fashion. Zabini saw him and made a horrid face at him. Draco made a rude gesture that Professor Slughorn didn’t see.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. They all sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. Five Slytherins did not fit at a table for four, so Harry, Draco, Theo, and Tracy sat together while Zabini joined Ernie MacMillan and Weasley. The four Ravenclaws took a table together. Harry chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and the smell of Laine’s perfume. At the reminder of her, he should have felt anxious, but he found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion’s fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Draco, who grinned back lazily.

Professor Slughorn had a completely different lecture style from Professor Snape. He seemed genuinely excited to be teaching and to be talking about Potions. When Slughorn talked about the softly simmering cauldron, it was with warmth and affection, not cold admiration. His opening lecture presented some of the most complicated potions imaginable.

The first cauldron was full of the truth potion Veritaserum. The second, Polyjuice Potion. Harry had heard of Veritaserum before, and of course he could never forget that Hermione Granger had been brewing Polyjuice illegally when she’d been killed. The sight of her body on the floor was burned permanently into his mind. 

The good-smelling one was a love potion called Amortentia, which was new to Harry. It could create a powerful infatuation with someone -- not true love -- nothing could manufacture or imitate that -- that Harry knew instantly had incredible potential for mischief.

The last potion was a luck potion called Felix Felicis. Professor Slughorn offered up a phial of it to whoever brewed the best potion that day. Harry knew he wanted that phial, and he knew he wanted to learn how to brew Felix himself.

“Now then, now then, now then,” said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. “Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making.”

“Professor?” Weasley said, raising his hand.

“Yes, Weasley?”

“I haven’t got a book, sir. I thought Professor Snape was going to be teaching, and I only got an E on the OWL, so-”

“Say no more, my boy!” He went to a cupboard at the back of the room and removed a book from the stack inside. “This will serve until you can purchase your own. I expect there will be a few more joining us eventually.”

Weasley took the proffered book with great reluctance. It was a beat-up-looking thing, the cover barely on. He flipped it open and groaned loudly. “Sir,” he said, not waiting to be called on, “this book is all marked up. Is there another?”

“Of course, of course,” Professor Slughorn said, waving his hand. “Take any one you want.”

Weasley stuffed the marked up, ratty book in the back of the cabinet and took one that looked almost new.

Professor Slughorn’s supervision of a brewing session was also completely unlike Professor Snape. Where Snape presented a clear, step by step procedure, stood back to allow the students to succeed or fail as they would and ask questions if they dared, Slughorn walked around offering advice and encouragement. He seemed to want them to succeed at the moderately difficult potion.

After five years in class with Professor Snape, Harry had picked up a few tricks in dealing with some of the ingredients. The assigned text had a bit to be desired in some areas. He altered his preparation slightly, which he was sure was how Professor Snape would have done it, and continued on. He was extremely pleased when the draught turned out perfectly.

“Well done, Harry, well done,” Professor Slughorn said, peering into his cauldron. “This is very good work.”

Harry flushed a bit at the high praise. “Thank you, sir.”

“Not quite good enough, I’m afraid, though, to best Miss Davis. Congratulations. Use it well,” Slughorn said as he handed Tracy the phial.

Tracy accepted the liquid luck with a bit of amazement. “I will, sir. I promise.” She stared at the potion in her hand.

“Congratulations, Tracy,” Harry said.

She shook herself out of her trance. “Thanks. I wonder what it will be like.”

Harry grinned at her. “Only one way to find out.”

She nodded. “True, but I think I want to save it and wait for a perfectly ordinary day, like Professor Slughorn said.”

After Potions, they were scheduled for Arithmancy, where Harry had long since left his Muggle education in maths behind. He struggled with the rest now to understand calculus.

“All of you will hate me by the time Halloween comes around,” Professor Vector promised them. “I promise not to take it personally.”

Within ten minutes of her lecture, Harry could see why. The woman was literally speaking Greek.

They headed towards the Great Hall for lunch. They were just about to turn the corner and head towards the stairs when Harry saw Astoria coming the other way. She locked eyes with him until she had passed him, jerking her head slightly towards a side corridor. Harry moved to the side.

“I need to visit the loo. I’ll see you there.”

Astoria was waiting in the shadow of the first door.

“What’s up?” he said.

She glanced to make sure he hadn’t been followed. “Michelle Holt won a phial of liquid luck in Potions this morning. She was very obvious that she wanted to win it, and she just as obviously knows exactly what she’s going to do with it. Given how she once connived her way into getting a date with you, I thought you might want to know she’s now got a potent ally.”

Harry blinked with astonishment. “How do you know about that?”

Astoria gave him a pitying look. “I have my sources, Harry. Don’t underestimate me because I’m only fourteen. I know everything that goes on in this school.”

He still couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. “You were only twelve when that happened.”

“So?”

Harry gave up. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Not a problem. See you later.” She continued toward the common room.

Harry watched her go. He wanted to scream with sheer frustration. Didn’t he have enough to deal with this year? His stomach rumbled, and he realized he was going to have to eat quickly or be late for Charms.

In the Great Hall, Tracy was the centre of attention at the Slytherin table, for she was rightly proud of herself. Everyone wanted to see the phial, and because Tracy was so willing, nobody asked to see Michelle’s. Harry noted that she kept her success to herself. She hunched over her plate, eating her chicken sandwich. She didn’t look at anyone. She had her Ancient Runes book open in front of her, and she turned the pages slowly.

After lunch was Charms, where Professor Flitwick announced in an entirely too cheerful manner that they would be starting non-verbal spellcasting of all spells from previous years but also the new spells they were learning. Harry and his friends had already started on that over the summer, and now Harry was thankful for the practice. He earned points when he was able to do the Levitation Charm without a sound. Nobody could get the hang of the Disarming Charm, so practice in that regard was their homework assignment.

After Charms was Care of Magical Creatures, which only Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle had along with Zabini. Theo had dropped it.

“Have fun with with Hagrid,” Harry said. “Don’t get killed.”

“That’s not funny,” Millie said, laughing anyway.

“No one has died since Professor Hagrid took over the class,” Zabini said. “You shouldn’t joke about it.”

“Shut up, Zabini,” Draco drawled.

“Sod off, Malfoy.”

“Both of you be quiet,” Pansy snapped.

“Let them fight,” Theo said.

“You too!”

“I don’t have time for this,” Zabini declared, sauntering off.

“I can’t believe we have to put up with him all year.” Draco shook his head.

Harry agreed. “He’s being even more obnoxious than last year.”

Amazingly enough, they were free for the rest of the day. Harry and his friends retired to the common room or, as they were apparently calling it this year, the Serpent’s Lair. Harry hadn’t been consulted on that designation, and he somewhat scoffed at it, but it amused the firsties, so he let it go.

“Now what?” Theo said. “Duelling?”

Harry wasn’t surprised at the suggestion. “Maybe later when the others get out. I need to figure out when to have the first club meeting.”

“Should we get a headstart on the homework?” Tracy said. “If we get something done on the first night it’s assigned, it won’t look so bad later on. If we can finish up, we might even have some free time this weekend.”

“Always with the homework,” Daphne teased, shoving her gently.

Tracy laughed. “Your marks could stand a bit more homework on your part.”

“I’m never going to get as good of marks as you, Tracy. I accepted that a long time ago.”

“It’s not about doing better than me,” Tracy protested. “It’s about doing better than yourself, better than you did on the last test or that last potion or last term or last year, simply doing better.”

Daphne changed the subject. “We could simply sit and talk. Who says we have to do anything until the others get out of classes?”

“Well,” Pansy said, “I heard that Professor Slughorn had a phial of Felix Felicis for the seventh year class and both fifth year classes.”

“He gave out four phials of the stuff?” Tracy said incredulously. “Who won the others?”

“Michelle Holt, Loony Lovegood, and Cho Chang,” Pansy reported.

“Holt?” Tracy said sharply. “The manipulative little slag?”

Pansy nodded. “That’s the one.”

“She shouldn’t be allowed to keep that,” Tracy declared.

“Why not?” Pansy wondered lazily.

“She has a very high chance of misusing it!”

Pansy scoffed. “Of course she’ll misuse it. Most anyone would. It’s the sort of potion made to be misused. Aren’t you going to misuse yours?”

Tracy frowned. “That’s not the point.”

“Tracy is right,” Theo said. “That potion is too dangerous to let Holt keep it. Merlin only knows what she’d do with it. With luck on her side, she could do just about anything.”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion, Theodore,” Pansy half-snarled.

“I wasn’t aware it was a private conversation, Pansy,” he needled back.

Theo and Pansy glared at each other.

"You know,” she said, her tone suddenly light and sweet, “given all you've been through lately, I've been giving you a pass, but I think that time is about over. When you started talking again, your words were just as offensive as ever. I've had about all I'm going to tolerate from you."

"Are you going to hex me, Pansy?" He seemed almost eager.

"Worse," she promised him.

"Worse?"

Her eyes flashed. "I'm going to make you wish you were never born."

"I've already wished that," Theo said evenly. "A few times, actually. I had to poison my own father, Pansy. Doing that changes a man."

Her entire hostile manner dropped in an instant. "I know you did what you had to," Pansy said, her voice hushed. "I'm sorry for my turn of phrase."

He nodded. "Apology accepted."

"I know you had to do it, but it's not an excuse to treat your friends poorly."

"I know," Theo said with exasperation, running his hands through his hair. "I'm trying, but sometimes things just set me off, and I'm reacting before I can really think my way through it. I hate it. I just can't seem to stop myself."

She reached out and put a hand on his arm. "We aren't your enemies, Theo."

"I know that." He placed his hand over hers and squeezed.

"You sure do seem to forget it a lot of the time."

"I'll work on it."

"Please do."

* * *

 

Professor Snape appeared in the common room that evening before dinner. “Assemble the house.”

David Palce, the seventh year prefect stood up. “At once, sir.”

Everyone filed out of the dorms and took seats at the tables.

Snape stood by the fire, his expression almost pleasant. “It is with great pride that we gather here tonight. Tonight we make history. For the first time in our long tradition, there will now be a lady holding the rank of Quidditch team captain. There have been female players before, but never a captain. We salute you, Millicent Bulstrode.”

Snape held out the Captain’s badge. She reached for it, but Snape pulled it away. Then he opened the pin and affixed it to her robes.

“Speech! Speech!” Harry and Draco called.

Millicent Bulstrode was one of a handful of girls to make the Slytherin Quidditch team and the first since 1976. That rare accomplishment filled her with satisfaction. She loved playing Chaser and had been looking forward to this season all during last year. With Harry and Draco quitting the Quidditch team, it was left half-vacant and leaderless. She was the best candidate for the job, and ability mattered in Slytherin. Now the whole house was counting on her. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and tried to make her voice strong.

“Thanks everyone. I know a lot of you put in a good word for me. I’ll do my best. We’ll play our hardest. We need a chaser and a seeker, so come on out to trials.”

Harry pulled Millie aside as everyone headed up to dinner. “I’ve got something to give you.”

He opened up his bag and pulled out a beaten-up, leather-bound book. Her eyes grew wide, but she made no sound. She couldn’t. She was too in awe.

“To you, Millicent Bulstrode, I pass the Slytherin Quidditch manual as it was passed to me. You are not worthy.” He shook his head ruefully. “Nor was I. You will live up to our tradition as best you can. We may taste defeat, but never swallow it. What falls may rise again. The knowledge in this book will help you. Keep it safe.”

Millie could barely hide her grin. “With my life.”

He offered the book with both hands. She likewise accepted it, her hands trembling.

“Good luck, Captain,” Harry said.

“Thank you, Captain,” she replied solemnly. “It is an honour.”

“The honour is ours, Millie. Make us proud.”

“I will,” she swore fervently. “I promise.”

* * *

 

Harry had complained about Ancient Runes a great deal. He liked the subject well enough, but changing the material every year wasn’t quite fair. In third year they had studied the Norse Futhark. In fourth, Anglo-Frisian and Marcomannic derivatives of the Futhark. In fifth year they had covered Celtic runes. Now they were going to learn about Hebrew.

He really wasn’t sure why he was continuing in the subject. He wasn’t a glutton for punishment. The subject matter was interesting, to be sure, but he wasn’t sure how it was supposed to help him defeat Voldemort.

From Ancient Runes they headed down to the greenhouses for Herbology. They were in greenhouse 4 this year. Neville was there, tending to some big ugly thing that looked hungry.

“Hey, Neville,” Harry said, as the Slytherins filed in.

“Hey, Harry. How’s it going?”

“Fine. You?”

The Gryffindor boy grinned. “Never better.”

Harry eyed the ugly plant with trepidation. “What is that thing?”

“We call him Spiny Norman,” Neville said. “I’m not really sure why. He’s a Spined Piranha Trapper. Keep back, please.”

“No worries about that,” Pansy muttered.

“Professor Sprout had to see to something,” Neville informed them, “so I’ll be starting the lecture for you.”

“You?” Zabini said incredulously.

Neville gave him a surprisingly stern look. “I am a prefect, and prefects fill in when teachers are unavailable momentarily. Moreover, I’m already familiar with the material you’re covering today. Herbology is something of a speciality of mine, so you’d be wise to listen up. Everyone please take your seats, and we’ll begin.”

Pansy was giving the new, assertive Neville an appraising lookover. She sat down at the table nearest to him and was joined by Tracy, Daphne, and Millie.

Harry had asked his two big friends to keep Zabini away from him during classes as much as possible. True to their word, Crabbe and Goyle stuck to Zabini like a charm, joining him as he put his bag down at a table. Only once they were safely seated did Harry take a seat as far away from them as he could, where Draco and Theo joined him.

Neville began the lecture, and Harry was stunned to see how different he was when talking about something he knew about. He sounded confident, in control, and had command of the material. Pansy hung on his every word, and Tracy thought it was hysterical, to judge from the painfully straight face she failed to keep.

It was almost a shame when Professor Sprout hurried out from the back of the greenhouse, pulling off her gloves and tucking them in a pocket. “Good morning! Sorry to be tardy. Thank you, Mister Longbottom. On your way now. Twenty points for going above and beyond the call of a prefect.”

Neville inclined his head politely. “Thank you, Professor. Goodbye, class.”

“Goodbye, Mister Longbottom,” Harry and several others said in overly-polite tones.

Pansy watched him leave, her expression disappointed and longing. Tracy buried her face in her hands.

Sprout looked out at the way they had arranged themselves and shook her head firmly. “Two groups of four and four groups of three. That won’t do. Mister Goyle, please come work over here. Mister Crabbe, over there. Mister Zabini, up front.”

Crabbe was now sitting with Morag, Su, and Michael. Goyle was with Padma, Lisa, and Mandy.

Harry tried not to make a face. Here he’d specifically asked the pair to make a group with Zabini to keep him away, and now they were stuck working with him. He cursed his luck silently. He wouldn’t be able to whisper anything privately to Draco or Theo.

The N.E.W.T. for Herbology sounded absolutely grueling.  It required identifying over sixty plants from a list of over three hundred plants. Identification from root to bud, they were reminded. What they ate, what they drank, what soil to use.

They did not actually grub in the dirt today, so they did not need a quick visit to the common room to freshen up a bit before heading up to lunch, but Harry knew there would be days when they grabbed food and took it down to the common room to eat after cleaning up.

“Who makes these schedules?” he said as they sat down at the table.

“People who obviously think you can Apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts,” Tracy replied flippantly.

“Maybe you could, once upon a time,” he wondered.

Draco agreed with Harry’s complaint. “Apparently the schedules were codified by the Founders years a thousand years ago and can’t be changed at all.”

“Can we get our lunches sent directly to the common room?” Crabbe wondered. 

“You mean the Serpent’s Lair,” Goyle said with a grunt.

“I am not calling it that ridiculous name,” Harry declared. “Do the Gryffindors call their common room the Lion’s Den? Do they have a Raven’s Perch or a Badger’s -“ he sputtered “- whatever.”

“It is the name of the place,” Tracy said smugly. “They told us so in first year.”

“Did they?” Harry couldn’t remember. “If they did, it was once, and I never heard it used after that.”

She shrugged, tipping her head to the left. “Apparently they brought it back.” She brushed her blonde hair back behind her ear.

“Why?”

She shrugged again, tilting to the right this time. “Do I know?”

He grinned. “You seem to know everything else, or at least act like it.”

She smiled and mockingly fixed her hair as if someone were going to take her picture. “Well, false modesty is so unbecoming.”

After lunch was History of Magic, where the youngest professor, Abraham Montague, had really livened up the subject. Long gone were the days when one could have a nap.

“If anyone wants a guaranteed O this year, all you have to do is buy my book and write me a report on it. You can find it at Flourish and Blotts and other fine bookshops.”

Theo raised his hand. “Professor, isn’t that considered extortion?”

“I suppose it could be, but you see I’m not threatening to fail anyone who doesn’t buy my book. It’s a completely voluntary transaction on your part.”

“So it’s simple bribery?”

Montague smiled. “I prefer to call it an opportunity for extra credit.”

Harry had been looking forward to History of Magic class ever since Professor Montague had taken over. It was one thing to learn dry accounts of history but another thing altogether to hear the stories of people living the events as though it were some sort of cinema.

Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration class was still a cakewalk. Ever since he had mastered his Animagus form, he had been quite the ace. Ever since she’d found out about it, the class had been much, much harder. He’d earned loads of points through demonstration, and he’d done perfectly on the practical portion of the O.W.L.. Still, old McGonagall deplored his essays, and he hadn’t been looking forward to N.E.W.T.-level. He’d been right to be apprehensive. The material at this level was very challenging and very dangerous. Harry had to maintain his focus despite his natural skill.

Theo and Tracy, who had been working with Sirius for several weeks, were a bit sharper than normal. Everyone else seemed to be back in first year again.

After feeling like their brains had been sucked out through their noses and poured back in through their ears, they returned to the common room.

“My brain literally hurts,” Draco complained.

Harry went to use the loo, letting his friends go on ahead. He whistled to himself as he walked, feeling bad for his friends who struggled with both the theoretical and the practical.

Something poked Harry in the back. He glanced back and saw someone beckoning to him from a side corridor. He investigated and found Astoria Greengrass, her hood pulled far over her face.

“Hey, Harry,” she said in a low voice.

“What’s up, Tori?”

She looked around to make sure no one was watching them. “Arcen and Michelle snuck off together after last class. Thought you should know.”

Harry was confused. “How do you even know that?”

“I have my sources,” she said with a mysterious smile. “I don’t yet know if it’s significant, so I thought I should play it safe and tell you.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, still a little uncertain.

“Not a problem. Bye.”

In a flash, she disappeared around the corner. Harry fought a grin. As long as she was having fun, he supposed it couldn’t hurt.

The Slytherin common room was always warm and inviting. The round tables were suitable for study or play. The couches were soft and squishy, able to fit at least five people. There was a wireless set that was often on at low volume for those who liked a bit of music while they completed assignments.

While they waited for dinnertime, the sixth and fifth years sat around the fireplace and argued over what song to listen to.

Harry found himself thinking of Laine. The current song was about loss and pain and enduring love, and he inserted his own story, realizing how closely the words matched his own feelings and situation. Tears began to build up in his eyes.

As the song changed, Harry turned down the volume.

“So Lucas, I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said hesitantly. “Was there a service of some kind?”

Lucas wiped tears from his eyes. The song had affected him too. “A funeral? Yeah. They buried an empty casket. It was a farce, every bit of it. Then Fudge had to show up and ruin any sense of seriousness.”

Harry’s heart sank. “Fudge was there? Oh no.” The snivelling little man was the worst possible choice to comfort the bereaved.

“He knelt down in front of my mother and father and swore to them on his honour as a wizard that her killer would be caught and sent through the  _ veil _ ,” Lucas hissed furiously. “Well that made Mum start sobbing again. He hugged her and consoled her. My dad looked like he wanted to kill him. Then he asked if he might say a few words. Dad let him, just so he’d let go of Mum.”

“Do I even want to know what he said?” Harry braced himself.

“The arse had the indecency to have a cameraman there,” Lucas said through clenched teeth. “We’ve been turned into propaganda. I was so disgusted I nearly vomited on him.”

“That’s not right,” Harry said hotly. “How dare he?”

“We should have a memorial service,” Ginny said. “I didn’t get to go either, and Laine was my best friend.”

“Maybe down by the lake,” Daphne suggested. “I want to help. I almost died. You all could just as easily be planning this for me.”

“That would be really nice,” Ginny said. “I know she would have wanted you all there.”

“Who will speak?” Harry wondered.

“Anyone who wants to,” Lucas replied.

“Not Michelle.” Tracy’s voice was firm.

“What? Why not?” Michelle protested.

“Because Laine hated you," Tracy snapped. "She would roll over in her grave.”

“If she were in her grave,” Michelle muttered.

“See, it’s comments like that why we don’t want you to speak.”

Michelle glared at her. “Is that why someone stole my phial of Felix? To punish me some more?”

“I think she’s glad Laine is dead,” Pansy said. “Not a tear in her eye as we’re sitting here planning a memorial. Only thinking of herself.”

Michelle got a bit hot under the collar. “After the way she treated me for the past two years, forgive me if I don’t break down sobbing,” she said acidly. “I’m sorry she’s dead, because now I’ll never have a chance to make up with her, but she was completely out of control, and none of you did anything about her.”

“You shouldn’t have made a move on a boy you knew she liked,” Pansy said simply. “You brought it on yourself.”

Michelle blanched. “You don’t think she overreacted?”

Pansy shrugged. “I can’t say. You didn’t offend me. If you did that to me, I don’t think they’d have found you yet.”

“Why are you such a megaharpy?” Michelle exploded. “You and Laine are exactly alike.”

“Holt, as your legal counsel, I advise you to shut up,” Daphne quipped.

Pansy’s look could have frosted the lake. “Megaharpy? That’s cute, coming from a slag.”

“Slag?!” Michelle half-shrieked. “What is wrong with you people? I wanted a date with a boy I liked, I had a way to get it, so I took it. It was the Slytherin thing to do.”

“You stupid banshee,” Pansy half-whispered. “It’s not just getting your own way that’s important but  _ how _ you get your own way. You used to be Laine’s best friend.”

“Until Ginny came along, yeah.”

Pansy glared at her piteously. “And instead of realizing the benefits that friendship with such a well-connected girl could bring you, you chose to throw it all away, burning the bridge by making a play for her boy.”

“He was never her boy, though,” Michelle whinged.

Pansy sneered. “But she wanted him to be, and you knew that.” She pointed an accusing finger. “That’s not the act of a friend. You could have asked her if she would mind. You could even have offered to be a distraction from Padma so Harry wouldn’t be too into her. But no. You chose poorly. You acted disgracefully. That’s why you won’t speak. Only her friends are allowed to speak. You’ve been interjecting yourself more this year. You may want to see about not doing that. You’re not suddenly going to be popular because Laine is gone. Don’t push your luck, and watch your curséd mouth. If I hear you being disrespectful, I’ll take steps.”

Michelle shrank back from the vehemence in Pansy’s voice. “I’m still being punished for one little mistake?”

“Hardly little, Michelle.” Pansy’s eyes were hard as the jewels in the hourglasses in the entrance hall. “Believe it or not, you’re actually getting off light.”

“Light?” Michelle said with disbelief. “After the Yule Ball, nobody told me the password to the common room for the rest of the year. Last year, only the prefects would tell me.”

“Laine was ready to cut your nose off,” Tracy informed her. “She wanted to hang you up by your toes and put your head in a bucket of acid. Professor Snape had to place a bind upon her preventing her from attacking you on sight. I don’t think you realize just how lucky you are to be breathing.”

“She did calm down rather suddenly,” Ginny said. “Professor Snape had to enchant her?”

“Yup. It’s a well-known set of charms for parents.”

“I’m just going to go now,” Michelle said, now looking a bit nervous.

Tracy gave her an unfriendly stare. “You do that.”

Once Michelle had left the common room, they got down to details. 

* * *

 

Potions on Wednesday with Slughorn was again interesting. He lectured on Veritaserum. “Invented only a dozen years ago by Donald Winstelton, a Slytherin, it is the greatest aid to law enforcement since the magic suppression cuffs. Statements from confessions are not admissible in court, but they are sufficient cause for law enforcement to continue to gather evidence. It has certain drawbacks. The drinker can only speak the truth as he or she sees it. One could have been fooled or what one saw might not have been the truth. Perceptions could be fooled.”

Harry thought the idea of a truth potion to be remarkably practical. It certainly would have saved Sirius a lot of grief if they’d been able to ask him about his loyalties, though it seemed no one was even inclined to question him at all.

The principles involved in brewing Veritaserum were complex, and Harry took detailed notes. 

As they filed out of the classroom, Weasley came up to Harry. “When is the first meeting of that Duelling Club?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”

Weasley grinned. “Soon, Potter, soon.”

“Patience, Weasley.”

“I don’t do patience.”

Harry couldn’t help but grin back at him. “So I’ve noticed. Soon. In the meantime, work on your precision and silent casting.”

Weasley wasn’t completely happy, but he didn’t press the issue. “All right.” He hurried ahead to chat up Chrissy Golding.

“It’s still weird when he talks to us normally,” Theo said.

“Stranger things have happened than Weasley being civil,” Pansy replied.

“Like what?” he said absently, his brow still furrowed on Weasley.

She smirked. “Like you remembering to bathe.”

Theo snarled, but Daphne, Tracy, and Millie all laughed, and Harry tried to hide a grin as they hurried from the dungeons up to Defence with Professor Snape.

The Head of Slytherin stood at the front of the classroom with his arms folded imposingly over his chest. His robes fell seamlessly to the floor, and he appeared as a great pillar. His face might have been carved of granite. When the bell rang, they were all in their seats.

“Today, we shall discuss the Imperius Curse, which you are quite familiar with thanks to Professor Moody,” he began. “I understand several of you were quite resistant to it. This is good. Any who wish to work at building resistance will need to make an appointment and bring a witness to chaperone you.”

That made a certain amount of sense. Harry knew Snape didn’t know that Tonks was already working with them in this regard. He would certainly get a surprise when he had trouble with most of them.

Snape continued, and the room seemed to grow colder at his awful words. “The Dark Lord delights in using the Imperius, forcing his victims to do the most horrible things. Angus McKinnon was made to torture and violate his wife, who was Muggleborn.” He paused, to let them absorb the horror of it. “They made him kill his children. You might think that a parent could never harm their child, that the absolute love would let one fight the curse, but you would be wrong. They commanded him to laugh as he smothered them with pillows. The power of Imperius is near absolute. If you can be put under, you will do anything. Only if your mind is strong enough to resist will you retain your free will.”

Harry shivered. Snape made it real for them in a way no other teacher could. He had been a Death Eater and had seen the atrocities firsthand. When he had finished with Imperius, Snape set them to work casting non-verbal curses until the bell rang.

"Nott, Potter, and Malfoy! Remain!"

"What'd we do?" Harry muttered to Draco.

“No idea.”

"Sir?" Harry asked when the room had cleared.

The former Potions Master watched them for a moment, his black eyes glittering. “I understand Professor Slughorn lectured on Veritaserum today.”

“He did, sir,” Draco answered.

"Veritaserum is a powerful potion, but it is not one hundred percent reliable."

"No!" Theo gasped.

"It is possible to beat it," Snape confirmed. "Part of the Auror training programme involves learning how to lie under the influence of the serum. They start with small sips of one drop diluted in a glass of water and work up to five drops directly under the tongue."

Draco shivered. "Under it?" he repeated in a sick voice.

Snape nodded. "The maximum legal dosage in official use is three drops on the tongue, and even that is extremely rare. The Aurors are made of stern stuff, make no mistake. Now, why would they need to subject themselves to this?"

"In case they ever get captured," Draco answered at once. "They will be pumped for information, and if they can lie, wow."

"Correct. Passing on misinformation can be invaluable in saving lives. Even if the Auror's own life is lost, the sacrifice will have meaning. His name will be remembered."

"Are you recruiting for the Aurors, then, sir?" Theo asked cheekily.

Snape frowned. "Hardly. What I am suggesting, idiot boy, is that you follow their example and desensitize your body to the serum. Your little war won't always be bloodless, and I will not have you unprepared for reality. Am I perfectly clear, or should I use shorter words, Nott?"

"No, sir. Not needed, sir."

"I have taken the liberty of assuming you will see the merit of the suggestion and prepared a small batch of Ministry-strength Veritaserum. Here is one vial. It should last until about Halloween, when I will release the other vial to you. The stuff doesn't keep well, even under a Preservative Charm, so I will brew again over Christmas. In fact," Snape said with a twisted smile, "it can be my present to you."

"Illegal potions," Draco exclaimed. "Just what I always wanted!"

"Not more than a drop in a glass of water,” Snape cautioned. “Remember to sip."

At lunch Harry looked at his schedule and realized they were entering a slow point. The afternoon classes were Astronomy and Muggle Studies, which they would all be skipping. Thursday was electives day. Harry and most of the others had to get up for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, but after lunch they were free unless they were taking Care of Magical Creatures. Harry figured it would be a great time for the core of his Order to practice.

Thursday was a good day for getting homework done. Harry settled on Monday and Thursday nights for Duelling Club. Friday was a rough day. Four core classes and Astronomy at midnight. Saturday would be a day of recovery. Sunday would be for work.

Harry hoped that he wouldn’t get overwhelmed this year. He hadn’t liked feeling so out of control, stretched so thin. This year he was going to keep it together.


	11. Certain Truths

**** Slytherin House gathered at the lakeshore to mourn the loss of one of their own. It had started as a small gathering of friends, but eventually the whole house had been invited. They had toyed with the idea of opening it up to the other houses, but ultimately decided it was a family affair. Harry couldn’t help but notice how their decision was the same one her parents had made. He felt a little less hurt by their rejection afterward. They’d had their reasons.

The weather cooperated, which was nice. A few wispy white clouds were in the sky. There was a slight breeze, and the sun felt warm on Harry’s skin. The birds sang happily to each other. Even the giant squid put in an appearance, sunning its tentacles on the beach.

The seventh year prefects stood at the front. Dozens of sturdy wooden chairs, painted white and fitted with green cushions had been set out for them. A table draped in white cloth was set up at the front with dozens of pictures of Laine, candles, and flowers. The orchids had always been her favourite.

Harry’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw the first picture, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. It was a scene from the last year, sitting in the common room with Harry. They were curled into each other, cuddled with such content. Every detail of that day flashed into his mind’s eye, and the hurt of her loss pierced him again.

Ginny noticed his reaction, and she guided him to a seat at the front next to Lucas. She sat down next to him, and Draco next to her. Tracy was right behind Harry, her hand on his shoulder. Ginny held his hand and Draco’s.

Lucas might as well have been a stone statue for all the emotion he showed. Harry knew he was trying to hold it together. 

Harry realized that Ginny’s hand felt small and cold. He was suddenly conscious of how clammy his own hand was. He wondered if he should wipe it off and decided not to call any attention to it.

The seventh year prefects were standing behind the table, and when the house had gathered, they started the memorial.

“Thank you for coming, everyone,” David Palce said. “House is like family. That’s what Professor McGonagall told us before we were Sorted. House is like family. Slytherin House is our family, and we are all brothers and sisters. For those of us who are only children, it is a chance to experience having siblings. We gather today to mourn our sister Laine Slater, who should be a fifth year. For those who haven’t heard the gossip yet, Laine was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries back in June.”

Samantha Warrington nodded. “One of our sisters has fallen in battle. That so many have gathered to mourn her is a powerful thing. It fills me with hope. We must continue to stand against the Darkness that claimed her. We are stronger together than we are apart. Our grief can forge us, give us clarity of purpose. Let us always remember Laine and the cause she stood for.”

David leaned forward again. “Anyone who wants to speak may do so, but let’s try to keep it to remembering Laine and not about the war, please.”

Harry didn’t trust himself to speak, so he was going to let others do the talking. Today he was going to listen and learn as much about Laine as he could from other people.

There was a long moment where no one stood up. Finally Ginny gave Harry’s hand a squeeze and got up and went to the table. She picked up one of the framed pictures and looked at it intently for a few moments. She put it down with a sigh and turned around.

“I grew up with six brothers. I never had a girl to be friends with. I mean, Luna Lovegood lived nearby, but she always wanted to hunt for imaginary creatures. That gets tiresome after awhile, and I stopped going over to her house to play. That left me with just my brothers, since Mum didn’t want me to play with the Muggle girls in the village. My brothers, for the most part, tried to leave me out of things. I was closest with Percy and Bill, but I wasn’t allowed to play Quidditch with them. I never had my own broom. I was really a loner until age eleven, and I hoped when I got to Hogwarts I could make some friends.”

She paused for a moment, thinking of the awfulness of her first year and how her hope had been shattered.

“Unfortunately, I did not make friends. I came into contact with a Dark artefact, and I wasn’t myself that year. After I was cured, none of the Gryffindors wanted anything to do with me. Harry Potter, who is nothing if not noble and true, was nice enough to let me hang around so I’d have someone to eat meals with. Then I met Laine, and she became my best friend.”

Ginny looked at the pictures again.

“You don’t need me to tell you that Laine was warm, bubbly, and extremely outgoing. She more or less adopted me into Slytherin by sheer force of personality. Because of her, I feel at home here in a way I never did in Gryffindor. They didn’t try to be my friends because they didn’t understand me, or rather the way I appeared to be. She acknowledged that she didn’t understand me and was my friend despite it. How many of you ever heard her sigh dramatically and say I was a hopeless Gryffindor? Most, I bet. We shared a lot over these past four years. She helped me find myself again. She was my friend, and I miss her.”

Ginny sat down and took Harry’s and Draco’s hands again. She squeezed Harry’s tightly, and he was grateful she was there.

Now that the ice was broken, other people stepped forward to speak. Her yearmates Sarrah and Shawna stepped forward together, holding each other up.

Sarrah wore a green and silver prefect badge. She spoke first. “Laine was always willing to help us improve our fashions. We could ask her for any sort of advice. She knew so many patented Hair Charms. She even taught me one for the Yule Ball! She was a really good friend.”

“She was really bad at Herbology. She was always borrowing my notes.” Shawna sounded wistful. “I caught her trying to copy off Michelle once in second year. She denied it, of course, but I used that to get her to owe me a favour. Now I’ll never be able to collect. I’d only ask for her to come back.” She turned to the pictures. “I miss you, Lainey. It’s going to be really bloody strange without you this year. I thought we were going to go bonkers over the OWLs together. I loved studying Charms and Transfiguration with you. You always managed to make it understandable. I’m going to have to lead the study group now, since none of the others could herd a chicken in a round pen.” She turned away from the table and buried her face in Sarrah’s shoulder.

Professor Vector went forward and escorted the pair back to their seat. She conjured handkerchiefs and hot cups of soothing tea for the sobbing witches. She went back up to the front and contemplated the pictures as Astoria got up to speak.

She fiddled with her blonde hair as she spoke.

“Laine was a year ahead of me. She was the best. We all know how much fun she was. She was always smiling, always laughing. She was the nicest person. Not a mean bone in her body. She’d talk to anyone. One of the first nights in my first year, she came into the dorm to tell us a bunch of things she’d learned about the castle during her first year. We must have kept her there for hours. She answered hundreds of questions. She was so easy to talk to. She offered to let us copy her old notes for her good subjects, said she had copies of better notes for the others. We six girls really looked up to her. Some nights she’d even come sleep over in our dorm and we’d do all kinds of girly things. I didn’t even know there were so many Hair Charms. She was like a big sister for us. She told us all about boys. She warned us away from broom cupboards. ‘What’s so romantic about cleaning products?’, she always said. She recommended somewhere on the grounds or in unused classrooms. ‘Let the Gryffindors have the Astronomy Tower’, was another of her favourites. Merlin, she was something else.”

Astoria let out a great sigh. “Goodbye, Laine. I miss you.”

Professor Vector put her hand on Astoria’s shoulder. “Laine studied under me for two years. She was an above average student, and her grasp of number theory was commendable. I looked forward to seeing her in my class. She always sat in the front row. Every single lesson, she was there with an eager smile, ready to learn. She sat up and leaned forward. She dared me to teach her. I urge you all to make her an example in your lives.”

Jeremiah Goodwinter, a boy in Laine’s form, spoke as well. He was from an old family, and Theo and Draco had spoken of the Goodwinters with respect. They had invited him to lift weights with them, but he had declined.

As Jeremiah stepped to the front, Lucas muttered, “What’s he doing?”

“You know he had the biggest crush on her,” Ginny whispered back. “This should be painful.”

Jeremiah cleared his throat nervously. “I knew Laine not well. She did not much mingle with the boys. She and the girls largely kept to themselves, which was very annoying once we finally wanted to spend time with them.”

That comment got a bit of a chuckle. Lucas scowled and Ginny frowned.

“She was always polite, at least to me. I saw her get mad a few times, but never without cause. I believe she would have been the prefect this year, and I am sad that I won’t get to work with her on the council. No offense, Sarrah.”

“None taken.”

“I also have no idea what it’s going to be like this year without seeing her. It helps to know that so many of you feel the same way. I think together we can get through this.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he instead walked back to his seat.

Daphne stood up. She had been crying, but as she looked at the pictures on the table and lit a candle, her voice was steady.

“It feels very strange to be standing up here. Six of us went to the Ministry that night. Five of us came back.”

She paused to let that sink in. The candle wick caught and began to burn on its own. The flame flickered briefly before settling down as the wax started to melt.

“It could very easily have been me hit by that curse and knocked through that veil. As it was, I caught a curse that the Healers at Saint Mungo’s have never seen before. I almost didn’t make it.”

Daphne paused again, taking a moment to consider her own death.

“I knew her, but not well, a fact that makes me sad. She was usually bubbly, always witty. I saw firsthand how good she was for Harry. We all did. We all have a piece of us missing now. Let’s remember to cherish one another. Let’s remember to be thankful for all we have.”

Jamie Davis had taken a break from her duties in the hospital wing to be with her old housemates during this sad time. She sat next to Tracy, and there was no mistaking they were sisters. She stood up, brushing back blonde hair that had grown quite long since he’d first known her. She folded her hands inside the sleeves of her brown robes.

“Many of you don’t know me. I’m Jamie Davis, and I was a sixth year prefect when Laine was only a firstie. By our house traditions, I was her mentor. I got to see Laine grow from a shy, squeaky girl into a poised and confident young woman. She loved Hogwarts. She loved magic. She loved people, and nothing made her happier than chatting away several hours.” Jamie broke off with a bitter smile. “She came to me in tears one time about a lost piece of homework. I helped her find it just in the nick of time to hand it in to old McGona- I mean, Professor McGonagall. I wish I’d kept in touch with her after I finished school. I’ll miss her.”

Harry cried but managed to do it quietly. It was hard to hear people talk about Laine. Eventually everyone spoke who wished to speak. The sun was just starting to set over the water, setting the sky ablaze with red, purple and orange.

Professor Snape had been lurking at the back, leaning against a tree. He finally stepped to the front. His black robes fell smoothly into place. His hands were at his sides, odd for a man who often had his arms folded imposingly or his hands busy at brewing.

“I had the privilege of watching Laine grow into a vivacious young woman, one who was determined to seize the world by the horns and make it give her what she wanted. I will remember her as an adequate Potions student, but also a leader and a bright mind. Laine will live on forever in our hearts and memories. We will never forget her.”

“Never,” Harry said, as fresh tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and traced salty paths down his cheeks. Ginny squeezed his hand again, and Tracy rubbed his back.

“I spoke to Mister Filch and advised him that all Slytherins would be coming back late, so he should not hassle you. Nevertheless, if you run into trouble, send for me. Good night.”

“Good night, sir,” the crowd said.

Lucas bolted. He obviously didn’t want anyone talking to him. As the crowd dispersed, Harry stayed in his seat. He wanted to walk back alone.

“Let’s go, Gin,” Draco said. 

Ginny put a hand on his shoulder. “Harry, are you coming?”

He shook his head. “In a minute.”

She looked concerned. “Sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Draco put his arm around Ginny as they walked back up to the castle.

Harry stayed, watching the sun sink down. As Duelling Captain as well as prefect, he was exempt from curfew. When dusk was truly upon him, he stood and looked at the pictures, now bathed only in candlelight, one last time. The pain was still sharp, but he didn’t feel paralysed by it anymore. He turned to leave and found Tracy was waiting for him.

She smiled gently at him. “How are you doing?”

He resisted the urge to sigh. “How am I supposed to be doing?”

“How do you think you’re supposed to be doing?”

“I’m getting a headache already,” he complained. “I don’t know how I’m doing. I don’t know how to put words to how I feel. I don’t have the vocabulary to describe what I am experiencing right now.” He smoothed back his hair with both hands. “It’s so frustrating. And everyone keeps wondering how I’m doing. Next person to ask me that is getting hexed.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” she said lightly.

Harry sighed. “Sorry, Tracy. I just don’t know about anything anymore.”

She nodded. “That’s reasonable. It’s going to take time, Harry. No one expects it to happen overnight. We just want to make sure you’re okay despite everything you’re going through. Inherently the question is, ‘How are you, despite your girlfriend being killed by Death Eaters?’ That’s just too long and too rude to say all the time.”

_ When you put it like that, you do have a point.  _ “I guess.”

“I hope today helped a bit to say goodbye to her. You need closure to deal with her loss and move on.”

He smiled slightly. “I think it did. Hearing all those stories helped fix her a little more fully into my memory.”

She smiled back. “Good. Now let’s get in before Filch catches us.”

“We have immunity from Snape,” Harry pointed out, “and I’m a prefect and the Duelling Captain.”

“Well, look at you,” she said dryly. “Laine liked more than the titles. She liked you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so,” she assured him.

Harry grew silent, and Tracy didn’t push him to talk. The light slowly faded now that the sun had set. The afterglow had deepened to a purple shadow. They walked slowly, falling into step. She brushed her hand against his, inviting him to take it, and he did.

They went back to the common room and sat on the corner couch. The wireless played, and Harry felt himself start to choke up again. Tracy embraced him, tucking his head to her shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears leaking. Suddenly he felt someone sit down on his other side. Another set of arms encircled him. Though his vision was blurry, there was no mistaking that red hair. They were acting entirely like Hufflepuffs, but grief excused a lot of aberrant behaviour. They stayed there for some time, shifting slightly every now and again. Finally Harry shook his head clear of dark thoughts.

“We’ve got work to do tonight.”

The Order of the Basilisk was gathering after curfew to test the Veritaserum. The Chamber of Secrets was closer than the Room of Requirement. Harry used the Marauder’s Map to make sure Filch was far away.

Harry had brought several couches down into the Chamber, shrunken and stored in his pocket. He restored them now, making sure everyone had a place to sit. If they were going to be up to no good, they might as well be comfortable.

Draco conjured up a pitcher of water. He used a blue-tinted glass to designate the special solution. Everyone else got a plain glass of water in case they got thirsty.

Arcen grabbed the special glass and took a sip.

“Arcen, what are you doing?” Tracy said.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Hey! I did it! I'm lying under Truth Serum!"

"That's because I haven't added it yet, dummy," Draco said scornfully.

“Damn!”

“Language!” Millie said, swatting him in the back of the head.

“Ow!”

Draco carefully measured one drop into the glass. He swirled it gently. “We should let that diffuse for a bit.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said. “In the meantime, think of some questions to ask. Remember that a person has to answer what they believe is true. If I disguised myself as Professor Snape, came in and gave Arcen detention, then left, and then you asked him if Professor Snape gave him detention, he would say yes.”

“Good to keep in mind. That should be long enough. Pass it around.”

Harry took a sip from the glass and passed it to his left. Everyone drank from the vessel of truth, and Draco drained the last of it.

“I’ll go first,” Harry said. “Theo, did you take a second helping of everything tonight?”

“Yes.” His face twisted. “I also took a third helping of mashers.”

“You go next.”

“Draco, do you like lifting Muggle weights?”

“Not really.” Draco grinned. “It’s more that I recognize the need for it. Millie, do you want to marry Krum?”

“Yes.” She hid her face in her hands. “Shut up, all of you.”

“We didn’t say anything.”

Millie shook her head. “You didn’t have to. Arcen, did you ever peek on me in the bath?”

“Eew, no!” He gagged at the very idea.

“Thank Merlin!”

Arcen swallowed his gorge. “Daphne, would you ever date a younger man?”

The snarky blonde girl nodded. “Yes. Eew! Millie, your little brother is hitting on me.”

Millie glared at him. “Arcen, what are you doing?”

“I like Daphne. Bugger!” Even a rhetorical question had to be answered.

“My turn,” Daphne said. “Arcen, how much of what you talk is bollocks?”

“Most of it,” he replied candidly. He began to turn red. “That’s not fair.”

“Your turn,” Daphne said sweetly.

Arcen groaned. “Millie, why do you humiliate me so much?”

She couldn’t stop herself. “Because I don’t want you to realize how much I love you.”

Arcen stopped. So did the rest of the room. “You love me?”

She nodded. “From the day you were born. Mum and Dad explained to me why she was getting bigger, and I couldn’t wait to meet you. Then you were a boy. I still loved you, but I knew it would be different than a baby sister.”

Arcen nodded. “I’ve always known. Nice to hear it once in awhile, you know.”

“Complain, complain, complain. That’s all you do,” Millie said. “Enough sentiment. Pansy, how much do you weigh?”

Pansy clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle the reply. “Millie! How could you?”

“Yeah, Pansy,” Theo said maliciously. “How much do you weigh?” She kept her hands over her mouth. “Someone Sticky Charm her hands down.”

“I will ruin whoever even thinks about doing that.” No one dared. “Tracy, was your first kiss spontaneous or planned?”

“Planned.” Tracy looked at Harry, her heart in her eyes. Harry knew that the truth often needed context. They’d been kids and very excited about the opposite sex. “Draco, have you ever cast an Unforgivable Curse?”

“No. Crabbe, what girl do you want to snog?”

“Su Li. Theo, have you ever cheated on a test?”

“Never.”

They continued asking questions, and nobody was able to speak anything other than the absolute truth. There seemed a compulsion upon them to volunteer information, even beyond what was asked. It was a very strange feeling, and Harry didn’t care for it at all. It was similar to the Imperius Curse, but insidiously different. He tried to fight it, but was unsuccessful -- for now.

While they were already in the Chamber, Harry decided that it would be the perfect time to look through the hidden library some more. 

The books were all carefully preserved. Theo was practically drooling at the prospect of hidden knowledge, but he quickly grew vocal as he read. Theo was the sort to argue with his books if he didn’t agree with the author.

“That was disproven six hundred years ago!”

“You should be disproven!” Pansy called out.

“Shut up, Cici!”

“You shut up!”

“Both of you knock it off,” Harry said. “These books are at least a thousand years old. They were placed here by Headmaster Slytherin himself. I’m sure it was the best they knew at the time.”

Theo looked around with a vague expression of despair. “Is it all like this? Didn’t Voldemort update it?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think he ever came in.”

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

Theo’s bad feeling was soon proven correct. After a thorough investigation, they found nothing of very much use.

Harry did know of one thing that could be useful. He had, last year, found a journal detailing Slytherin’s private research. He had developed a spell to give pain, by triggering a nerve response. Harry went to Professor Snape’s office the next day to follow up on it.

"Professor, what have you been able to make of the Founder's writings?"

"They truly are priceless. The notes on his creation of the Cruciatus are interesting, but the content is not unique. It is no treasure trove of hidden knowledge, but it does hold strong historical and cultural significance."

In Muggle school, Harry had learned that the body had three kinds of nerves. One set was to inform the brain of pain, like when he stubbed his toe or had his finger shut in a door by Dudley. Another set was to tell the brain when he was cold, like being thrown into a snowbank by Dudley. The third set was to let the brain recognize when he touched something hot, like the time Dudley had forced his hand on to the burner.

Was it possible to construct a similar spell that would flood the victim's hot nerves or cold nerves? What would something like that do to someone? Would it be legal? 

"Sir, I was giving a lot of thought to the mechanism of the spell's effects. It triggers all the pain receptors in the body at once, right? Pain is only one of the sensations we can feel in our skin. There is also hot and cold, wet, slimy, and so on. If one wanted to, one could probably develop a spell to make someone feel as though they were submerged in a vat of gelatin. I believe a more useful adaptation would be to trigger the receptors for heat and cold. Those could incapacitate."

"Magic is all in the intent. Focus your thoughts and choose your words."

“Would you help me, sir?” Harry requested. “Could we call it a special project for Defence class?”

“I suppose we could indeed, if you feel you have the time for it. Let us talk further after the prefect meeting.”

Snape’s choice of words brought him up short. Harry was exempted from those meetings because he was supposedly too busy. “Sir, you are correct. I should not overextend myself. I should wait until the term settles down a bit before I decide what else I can handle.”

“You have learned patience,” Snape observed.

“Had to learn it, more like,” Harry said wryly.

“When you decide you are ready to work on your new spells, I will be waiting.”

* * *

 

The first of what Harry would come to call the Slug Club dinners took place a week later on a Saturday mid-way through September. It was strictly invite only. Harry wore a nice shirt under his robe and wore it open in the front. There were five people coming from Slytherin. In addition to Harry himself there was Ginny, Zabini, and a pair of twin girls in fourth year. 

Harry didn’t really know the Carrow girls, and he was busy enough not to be overly bothered by that fact. They hadn’t been in the group that met on the train. They had worn identical emerald green dresses, though they’d tied the sash on opposite sides to help other people tell them apart. They’d curled their hair and had a touch or two of makeup on.

Ginny had changed into a blue dress robe and tied her hair in a fairly intricate way. Magic had to have been involved. Her smile, though, was entirely natural, and she was dazzling.

Zabini stepped smoothly towards her. “Ginevra, my dear,” he said reaching for her hand and bringing it to his lips. With his head bowed, he couldn’t see Ginny roll her eyes.

Harry suppressed a snicker.  _ This should be entertaining. _

Zabini continued, oblivious. “Would you allow me to escort you to tonight’s soirée? I am a most charming dinner companion.”

“In your dreams, Zabini,” Ginny scoffed. “Put a hand on me, and I’ll remove it.”

He always seemed perplexed when they didn’t want to banter with him. “Why the threats immediately?”

Ginny pointed commandingly. “Go away, Zabini.”

Zabini bowed to the Carrow girls. “Ladies, may I offer you an escort?”

They tried not to smile, but they glanced at each other and instantly began laughing. They hurried down the corridor, hands clutched and giggling.

Zabini looked downright irritated.

“Three throws and naught through the hoops, Zabini,” Ginny said with a wide smirk. She followed after the girls and latched onto Harry’s arm as she passed, leaving Zabini sputtering.

Harry lurched into motion, stumbling a bit at first. “Hi.”

“Hi. This is shaping up to be a fun night already.”

When they got to Professor Slughorn’s office, most of the people from the train were already there. Neville and Cormac McLaggen from the Quidditch team had come from Gryffindor. Melinda Bobbin was a seventh year from Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw was unrepresented. Marcus Belby had not been invited to return, Harry noted curiously.

“Ah, good!” Slughorn said with delight, coming over to greet them. “Everyone is here at last. Good.”

The dinner table was a wide rectangle. Professor Slughorn sat at the head. Harry sat at his right. On his other side was Melinda, and beyond her was McLaggen. At the foot of the table sat Zabini and Ginny. On her right and continuing up the table back to Professor Slughorn were the Carrow twins, and finally Neville.

“Dinner is served!”

The meal was superb. Harry had eaten some very fine meals in his lifetime. This was a step above. Not only was the food delicious, but it was also presented with great artistry. He only wished the portions could be a little larger.

Melinda was a delightful person. Her family ran a string of apothecaries. Harry kept up a conversation with her all through the meal.

“We’re having trouble keeping some things in stock. Others things we’ve been ordered by the Ministry not to sell anymore. It’s the war, you see. Certain components have a high potential for mischief. By restricting and tracking people who try to buy them, hopefully we’ll find some Death Eaters or their sympathizers.”

Harry already knew about the Ministry efforts. It had been Mister Malfoy and Professor Snape’s idea to try to limit the damage Voldemort could do.

Across from him, Neville was chatting up Flora Carrow. She seemed very interested in him as well, Harry thought, if he was any judge of girls’ behaviour. He was also quite impressed with Neville’s forwardness. He was a far cry from the teary lad who’d lost his toad.

Ginny was completely focused on Hestia Carrow, trying as hard as she was to ignore Zabini. If he tried much harder to talk to her, Draco was likely going to have words with him. In between getting shot down, Zabini was laughing it up with McLaggen. They were getting along famously, loudly and often found entertainment in things the rest of the table only half-understood, but Professor Slughorn was smiling hugely.

During lulls in the conversation, Professor Slughorn talked a great deal about famous and/or important people he knew.

“Gwenog Jones sat in that very seat, my boy,” he said to McLaggen. “That very seat! I’ll have to make sure to introduce you to her at some point. Perhaps you too, Harry.”

“That would be nice, Professor, but I don’t play Quidditch anymore. Ginny would, though.”

“Oh yes,” Ginny said with fervor. “She’s one of my heroes.”

“Done, then. I’ll be in touch.”

After the meal came the salad, and the leafy greens covered with seasonings and oil was simply delightful to cleanse his palate. Then came dessert, which fulfilled several dreams Harry had had since childhood. The dish of ice cream probably could double as a bathtub, but the other guests would no doubt object if he were to dive into it. There were a dozen flavours of ice cream, with chocolate, caramel, fudge, and every other topping imaginable.

Professor Slughorn eschewed the ice cream and ate a great quantity of crystallized pineapple. “My favourite, you see.”

Finally the clock struck curfew. Professor Slughorn handed out notes in the event of Filch. 

The Carrow girls had gone on ahead. Zabini followed, still trying to chat them up. Harry and Ginny were left to walk back to the common room together.

“Quite the evening,” he commented.

“I’ll say,” she agreed. “I don’t think Zabini stopped leering at me all night. I should have worn a more modest dress.”

“That one’s not very revealing,” Harry noted.

“I know. It should be less so. Full cover. Know what I mean?”

He laughed lightly. “I do. Yeah, he’s an odd one.”

“So how are you doing?” she said curiously. “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you since the memorial.”

Harry resisted the urge to scream at the question. “I’m doing okay, I think. I haven’t cracked, if that’s what you mean.”

She gave him a small smile. “That’s a good start.”

He nodded. “I just try to take it one day at a time. Don’t worry about tomorrow, because today is enough to deal with.”

“And that works?” she asked skeptically

“So far.”

Ginny's gaze was far away. “I just keep thinking about what will happen to me without her. The other girls and I aren’t particularly close.”

Harry frowned. “You think they might want to kick you out?”

She paused. “Yeah.”

“That won’t happen,” Harry said firmly. “Even if they try to, Pansy will set them straight.”

“I’d rather just move in with the sixth years.”

“We’ll hold it as an option.”

She looked relieved. “Oh good.”

“What was that?” Harry said suddenly. Ginny fell silent. He cast a non-verbal Hearing Amplification Charm, a Silencing Charm on both of their feet, and followed the sounds to find Arcen and Michelle together. She had him pressed up against the wall outside the common room and looked to be cleaning his teeth with her tongue. They were doing it completely wrong, but he didn’t seem to mind. His hands were busy grabbing her bum. They were both oblivious to their audience.

Harry let it go on for about a minute before he cleared his throat. The pair sprang apart guiltily. Both of their faces were flaming red.

“I’d like to get into the common room, please,” Harry said casually.

“Of course,” Arcen said quickly. “Sorry.”

“Not the best place, you two,” Ginny added.

“Where did you two go then?” Michelle asked, her tone a trifle too pointed for Harry’s liking.

“We’ve been at Professor Slughorn’s office for a little dinner party.”

Michelle’s expression turned sour. “Ah, the Slug Club. I might have known you’d be in it.”

“Let’s go, Michelle,” Arcen said, trying to lead her further into the dungeons.

“It’s after curfew,” Harry said. “Don’t get caught by anyone you’ll get in trouble with.”

“We won’t,” he called back.

Harry shook his head.

“That’s new,” Ginny observed.

“Nah, they’ve been sneaking around for awhile.”

“How do you know that?”

“Astoria told me.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "When did you two get so close?"

Harry frowned.  _ That is a really good question. I don’t remember. _


	12. Lily Evans

**** In the month of September, everyone settled back into a school routine. New traffic patterns were established through the corridors. People learned how to time their walking so as to be able to catch the stairs. 

Homework began to pile up almost immediately. For some strange reason, Harry had been under the impression that fifth year was bad in that regard. He was sorely mistaken. He considered which of his classes he could conceivably drop and decided he needed one of the time-turners from the Department of Mysteries. Between the core of Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defence, and Herbology, he was also taking Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and History. He was dropping only Astronomy. At least he wouldn’t have midnight sky-watching this year. He was seriously considering dropping Herbology, Ancient Runes, and History as well. The very idea of sixth year being the easy, “off” year, was quickly proving to be a lie.

Harry studied in the common room now, claiming space that was his due as an upper year student. Most evenings found the gang seated at two of the round tables working on class assignments. The composition shifted mainly due to Quidditch practice.

The Quidditch trials were something of a riot, from what Harry later heard. First years were allowed, and most of them wound up in the hospital wing. Jamie Davis was kept quite busy brewing up various potions to keep Madam Pomfrey stocked up. Normally Professor Snape would have that job, but he was no longer Potions Master. Professor Slughorn was too busy, or so he claimed.

Millie fell into the job of team captain easily. She seemed like an old hand as she barked orders and consulted with her clipboard. She had lots of experience bossing Arcen around, so he fell into line quickly and urged Lucas to do the same. Crabbe and Goyle were natural followers. She terrorized those who came to try out for Keeper and Seeker. The house was cautiously optimistic heading into the match with Gryffindor. 

Millie had broken the taboo of girls on the team and as captain she inspired other girls to try out. There were more girls than boys on the pitch now, and they played better too. The new Keeper was a girl named Estrella Mendoza. The new Seeker, surprisingly, was Ginny.

“I thought you said you weren’t allowed to play with your brothers,” Harry said when he heard the news.

“That’s right. I wasn’t, so I snuck their brooms out of the broom shed and practiced flying on my own.” Ginny seemed very proud of herself, and Harry couldn’t really blame her. It took quite a lot to pull one over on the Weasley twins. “I could have gone for Chaser, but Lucas wants it, and I feel like he should have it..”

He nodded. “And good Seekers are harder to come by.”

“That too.”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk a bit as he realized what would happen in October. “I personally can’t wait to see you fly against Ron.”

“Ooh, I hadn’t even thought of that,” she said with relish.

“I wonder who the new announcer will be now that Jordan is done with school. He should have a lot of fun playing up the family and house rivalry.” It almost seemed pointless to look forward to Quidditch with everything else going on, but even if he wasn't on the team, he would enjoy the respite.

Harry’s days were fairly routine, and the weeks would eventually turn into months. He had his classes, the Duelling Club, and his homework. That was about as much as he felt he could handle. There were constant reminders everywhere of Laine, and he often had to calm himself with his Occlumency meditations. Suppressing emotion was the key to safeguarding one’s memories, but his imagination ran wild.

She was the reserve Seeker and would move up when he quit the team. He was in the stands cheering her on as she caught the snitch. They studied in the library together, preparing for her O.W.L.s. They wandered through Hogsmeade together with Draco and Ginny, each couple stealing a few kisses on the sly every now and again. They walked alone in a secret dungeon corridor that opened out on the cliff face and had a commanding view of the lake. They were kissing. They were more than kissing.

She was gone, and Harry had no idea how to deal with it. There was no fixing it. There was no changing it. There was no undoing it. There was no second chance. Laine was gone, and it was forever. He had no choice but to move on, but he didn’t know how. He’d never had a chance to say goodbye. He honestly didn’t remember what his last words to her had been. He didn’t want to watch his memory of the battle in the Department of Mysteries again. He’d settled for letting the adults watch it. A person he knew, who he liked, a girl who he liked a fair bit more than just as friends, was dead and gone.

This is how it must have felt for Sirius, learning that his best friend was dead. Both of them: murdered. His grief echoed off the walls of the hole left in his life. It was inconceivable that in the blink of an eye a life could be snuffed out. The Killing Curse and so many other magicks could extinguish the spark. There was true evil in the world, and it was anyone who would willingly inflict such grief and tragedy upon not just one family but dozens and hundreds of families. Voldemort had to be stopped so that society could live at peace.

To train up their best, they needed great teachers. Harry lingered after Arithmancy on Thursday. The dark-haired witch put her notes in her satchel and looked directly at him.

“Yes, Mister Potter?”

“Professor Vector, may I have a few moments of your time?” he said politely.

“Of course. I always have time for my students. Did you have a question about the homework?”

“No.” Harry steeled himself. “Quite a few of us are worried about what will happen with the war.”

“Of course.” She waited for him to continue. 

He took a deep breath. “If we have to defend ourselves, we’ll need every advantage. What can Arithmancy do in a duel?”

She leaned back in her chair and gazed up at the ceiling. She thought for several long moments. Just when Harry thought she wasn’t going to answer, she said, “Many things.” He waited respectfully for her to continue. He didn’t want to push her too fast and have her refuse. “I am not a war witch, though. I am a mediocre witch at best when it comes to practical spellcasting. My strength lies in theory. Though you call me Professor, I am beyond a Master of the school. I earned my Doctorate of Thaumaturgy, specializing in Numerology and Symbology. However, I leave it to others to apply the concepts I study and explain to them.”

Harry nodded. “Will you give us your support?”

“I will readily tutor anyone in Arithmancy, but I am not getting involved beyond that.”

“Thank you.” He was grateful that she was offering that much. Arithmancy was a very powerful aid to the spellcaster who could properly apply it.

“Let me know how many, and we’ll coordinate a time.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

Professor Slughorn had invited Harry to join him for tea on Thursday. As they had no classes in the afternoon, they were able to get a headstart on their homework, and Harry was able to spare a couple of hours.

Slughorn lit up when Harry entered his office. "Sit down, Harry, sit down. Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything? You must try these candied dates." He held the dish out as Harry sat in a squashy armchair.

"Thank you, Professor."

The dates were unlike anything Harry had ever tasted before. He crunched them, exulting in the flavours exploding on his tongue.

“The tea’s just finished steeping, so we’re ready.” He poured for Harry first, then himself. He offered milk and sugar, but Harry declined. He added both to his own cup and took a sip.

“Ah, that’s nice,” Slughorn said with satisfaction. “This is my favourite blend. Have you ever had Experimental Essence? I helped Angus McKinnon secure a business arrangement with some Indian tea growers. He sends me a box of it every month.” Slughorn sighed. “Or at least he used to. Now I must purchase it like everyone else.”

“It’s delicious, sir.” Harry wasn’t hard to please when it came to tea.

“Nothing like a nice cup of tea to warm the old bones. I swear, this castle get draftier every year.”

“It certainly can, sir, especially in the dungeons.”

“I insisted upon Professor Merrythought’s old office, you know,” Slughorn confided. “It’s the closest one to the biggest heating source.”

Harry didn’t recognize that name. “Professor who?”

“Professor Galatea Merrythought,” replied Slughorn. “She taught Defence Against the Dark Arts for fifty years.”

“Fifty years?!” Harry yelped. “But-”

“Ah, this was before the curse,” Slughorn said wistfully. “She was the last one. She was a Slytherin, you know. Ah, we always do make the best teachers. Don’t let any of the Ravenclaws hear that, though.” Slughorn chuckled slightly.

“Professor?” Harry normally didn’t like to interrupt people, but the man seemed inclined to continue monologuing for the next few days.

Slughorn shook the fog of memory from his head. "What can I do for you, my boy?"

"I understand you were the Potions Master when my parents were students here."

His eyes grew far away. "Yes, yes, I remember them vividly. Such a tragic loss. I always knew it would be an interesting day when I had the Gryffindors. Your father was competent, but your mother had a natural flair that few could replicate. It was truly a joy to teach her. She soaked up knowledge like a sponge. She would have made a fine Ravenclaw, in fact. Utterly Gryffindor, mind, utterly so, but she had an extraordinary thirst for knowledge. She was going to change the world. Tragic loss, tragic." He shook his head sadly.

Harry suppressed a stab of emotion. "Tell me about her," he requested.

"Well, where to begin?” Slughorn asked. “She had a sense of justice to her. She turned in her own dormmate once for cheating on a test. Ah, the days of the honour code. She stood up to older students, she stood up against her own house when they were wrong. She even gave herself detention one time."

"What?" Harry found it a bit far-fetched.

"Truthfully!” Slughorn avowed. “Sirius and James had started a food fight in the Gryffindor common room. Lily tried to stop it all and got a pie in the face for her trouble. Then she drew her wand and started lobbing mashed potatoes everywhere.” He chuckled gleefully. “Well while this was going on, someone had run off for Professor McGonagall. She was used to the boys' antics by then, but your mother getting into the mix was shocking for her. Well, Lily didn't give their Head of House any time to react. She took fifty points from Gryffindor and assigned them all detention. Minerva was so shocked that she simply walked away."

Harry still couldn’t believe it. "That's nuts."

Slughorn was still chortling. “It beat a worse punishment.”

Harry was fascinated by this mischievous streak in his mother. Sirius and Remus had never mentioned it, and he wondered why not.

“Did she have many detentions?” he asked, curious now.

Slughorn thought for a moment. “Not many. I remember her first detention. It was in her third year. She and a few other girls were caught trying to sneak into the prefects’ bathroom. They wanted to try the swimming pool and maybe see a few boys.”

Now Harry wished he hadn’t asked. “My mum was a Peeping Tom?”

He laughed. “Shocking, isn’t it, the things we learn about our parents? I found my father’s stash of erotic French poetry after he died. I had the most awful time giving the eulogy. I kept laughing.”

Harry really didn’t need to hear that.

“She was witty and charming,” Slughorn recalled fondly. “I liked her immensely. She was one of my favourites. She had a knack for potion-making. She had the feel. She could have gone on to pursue a Mastery. She might even have replaced me in this position in time.” He sighed greatly. “I offered to sponsor her, but she said she had other work to do. Well, that other work got her killed. Such a tragic waste of potential. She could have challenged the pureblood stigma against Muggleborns. Alas, it was not to be.” Slughorn shook his head, sending his many chins waggling. “I lost heart after the last war. Too many bright lights extinguished before their times.”

Harry tried to keep things light. “Was she a nice person?”

That question turned the mood. “She was exceptionally kind. She always had a smile for everyone, even her adversaries. She stood up for herself, but she always tried to talk first. No doubt with the stories told by your godfather and the former professor, you have gotten an idea of how the boys interacted. The girls are always much nastier, I assure you. I was Head of House for fifty years, you know. I’ve seen everything. Your mother had to deal with some pretty serious hazing. There were a lot of incidents where nothing could be proven. Priori Incantato hadn’t been discovered yet. Yet no matter how much they knocked her down, she kept getting back up.”

Harry could hear Slughorn’s admiration plainly.

“She was exceptionally kind-hearted. She was consistently nice to younger students. She held a homework club in Gryffindor to help the younger students with their assignments. It was one of the contributing factors toward why she was appointed prefect.”

“Sirius says she was popular.”

Slughorn nodded. “She made friends easily. She took longer to let people really get close, and there were only a handful of those I’d call her true friends. She dated a fair amount once she got to third year and was allowed the village. Plenty of boys asked her out. She said yes to many of them. The only one she always turned down was your father. He was such a character. Persistent, he was. She never went out with Sirius either. Remus a few times. Peter twice.”

The thought of the traitor ever touching his mum filled him with black rage. “Eew, she dated Peter?”

“No, they only went out twice,” Slughorn clarified. “Back in my day, that didn’t constitute dating. Nowadays, two people share one kiss and think they’re going steady.”

Harry certainly didn’t want to think about the traitor snogging his mum either. “Sirius said that her best subjects were Potions and Charms.”

“Yes, quite so. She was horrible at Transfiguration, as I remember.”

“My dad was good at that,” Harry recalled.

“So he was.” Slughorn sipped at his tea and glanced at the clock. Suddenly he grew flustered. “My goodness, is that the time already? I’m afraid I must say good afternoon. I have another appointment. We shall have to talk about your father next time.”

Harry caught the choice of wording. “Until next time then, sir.”

* * *

 

Professor Dumbledore had indicated to Harry that they would have private lessons to aid Harry for his eventual confrontation with Voldemort. On Sunday afternoon, he went up to the statue of the gargoyle and said the password. “Acid Pops.”

The gargoyle stepped aside, and Harry climbed the spiral stairs to the top of the tower. He knocked on the door.

“The door is open. I await you within.”

Harry shook his head as he entered the Headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore was seated at his desk. He pulled his sleeve down over his left hand and smiled easily. “Good evening, Harry.”

“Hello, sir.” Harry was intently curious what had happened to the old wizard’s hand and why he was so keen to hide it.

“Would you care for a lemon drop?” the headmaster offered. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you, sir.”  _ I want to get started. _

Dumbledore showed no inclination to get to the point of the meeting. “Is everything well with you? How is sixth year going so far?”

“Fine, sir.” Harry was trying to be patient. He’d learned to be patient while living at Number Four. Once he’d gotten free of that prison, he’d been surrounded by Sirius and Remus. Their Gryffindor impulsiveness was contagious, and Harry had developed quite the impulsive streak. Now he chafed at Dumbledore’s polite conversation.

“Classes going well, I trust? What do you think of Professor Slughorn?”

“He’s good, sir.” Harry had been very impressed with the new Potions Master thus far. He was a sink of tips and knowledge. Everyone was raving how they’d never brewed better potions.

Dumbledore stroked his beard with his right hand. “He knows a great deal. He’s a very learned man. You would do well to avail yourself of his skills while he is here.”

Harry agreed completely. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

There was a pause. The teacher looked at the student. The student returned the twinkling gaze, ready for a potential Legilimency attack. They stared at each other for several long moments until Dumbledore spoke first.

“Have you settled on a time for the first meeting of the Duelling Club?”

At last, something of some importance. “Next Tuesday, sir.”

The old man smiled. “Very good. Keep up the good work.”

“I will, sir.”

There was another pause. This time Harry spoke first.

“How did you injure your hand, sir?”

Harry hadn’t meant to ask the question, but now he was glad he had. He stared at Dumbledore, meeting the old man’s eyes in a challenge.

“The circumstances of my injury are not yet significant,” he demurred. “When the time is appropriate, I will tell you all.”

_ You’ve got a funny concept of openness, old man. _

“Well, to business then,” Dumbledore said briskly. “I have been working for many years to defeat Voldemort. Because of the prophecy, you are the only one who can do that, and I will help you. I know many things about Tom and how he became the monster that he is today. At certain times I shall call upon you for special lessons."

_ At last. _ "Tell me more."

"It's not a question of tell so much as show,” Dumbledore said dramatically. “I want to show you the memories of certain people Tom came into contact with. It is from these memories that I have pieced together a story. This story may be entirely incorrect, but I do not believe it to be so. Still, it is nothing more than a best guess."

Harry frowned. "Showing memories? You're talking about a pensieve."

"Indeed." Dumbledore looked gratified. "I wish to show you these memories and see if you come to the same conclusion that I have."

_ Young Tom Riddle. This should be entertaining.  _ “Let’s get started.”

Dumbledore picked up a crystal phial with a glowing silvery memory inside. "During your encounter with Tom Riddle's diary in your second year, you learned more about him than most wizards today can say. Rather, more than they knew six months ago. Now you shall learn more. This is the memory of Bob Ogden. He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” said Dumbledore. “He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry?”

Dumbledore uncorked the first memory, poured it in, and they were off.

* * *

 

As Harry climbed up the stairs to the headmaster’s office, a pair of unseen eyes watched him. He (or she) had been making note of Harry’s routines. His class schedule had been the easiest. He (or she) knew all of the sixth year Slytherins’ schedules. There was little variation. Whereas last year Harry had been all over the place with his various activities, this year he was very predictable. If he wasn’t in class or eating a meal, he was in the library or common room studying. It was very interesting how he lectured them all on vigilance but himself kept to a rigid routine that provided many opportunities for ambush. When he broke that routine, those who were paying attention were curious.

He (or she) had followed Harry here to the Headmaster’s office. He’d said the password correctly the first time, so he must have been invited, yet he didn’t have the trepid expression of one called out on the carpet. Why would Potter be in a cheerful mood about seeing the Headmaster?

The question certainly warranted further investigation.

* * *

 

What Harry saw in the Pensieve was disturbing. It felt downright weird to see Voldemort’s mother. She’d been so unskilled with her magic. She had had a wand, but had anyone taught her how to use it properly? Her own father had called her a squib and laughed about it. Voldemort’s mother a squib?

Harry noticed something else in the memory. Dumbledore was wearing the ring the Gaunt elder had shown off. He hadn’t explained, and Harry found himself frustrated with the old man’s reticence. Had the ring caused the curse on his hand?

Most shocking of all was the locket. Harry went numb when he saw it again. When the memory was over, he and Dumbledore returned to the office. Harry quickly excused himself, ignoring Dumbledore’s attempts to engage him in conversation.

He practically ran for the dungeons, needing to reach his communication mirror.

“Sirius Black!”

“Harry Potter!”

Harry was gasping for breath. “Sirius, I had my first special lesson with Dumbledore tonight.”

His godfather cheered. “That’s great. Is it fancy spellwork?”

“No, nothing like that.” Harry took a deep breath and tried to collect himself. He needed to get the details right. “He showed me a memory of Tom Riddle’s mum before she enchanted that Muggle. Her name was Merope, and she wore this beautiful gold locket with a jeweled ‘S’ on it. But here’s what threw me: I’d seen that locket before.”

“Have you now?” Sirius sounded intrigued.

“Yes. I found it while we were cleaning out our house.”

Sirius’ jaw dropped. “You found a locket that once belonged to Voldemort’s mum?”

Harry nodded. “I recognized it. I ought to. I gave it to my girlfriend last Christmas.”

“At Christmas, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Did you notice anything odd about her after that?”

He’d given that locket to Laine and she’d worn it for months. Who knew what effects it had had on her?

With a sudden serendipitous moment, Harry said, “This was the reason she started to behave strangely after Christmas. She got very possessive of my free time. Remember all the mirror conversations we had?”

“I remember. I’d say whatever this was, it definitely influenced her. Can you send it to me? I’d like to ask Lucius a few questions as well, if you don’t mind.”

“Take it,” Harry said gladly. “I think I might have gotten her killed.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“I mean much more literally this time. I gave Laine that locket." Harry paused, remembering. "Ginny told me that she saw the vision only when she was wearing the locket. She gave it back, and then Laine saw it. The odds on them both being Seers is pretty slim.”

“Indeed.”

The memories were flashing in his mind’s eye. He kept talking, his voice emotionless. “Earlier that night, I felt Voldemort trying to break into my mind. I fought him off. I didn’t see what he wanted me to see. So the only thing I can figure is that for some reason he was able to connect to the girls through the locket.”

“That’s useful information. Thanks, Harry. It could be that this was a method he developed in order to communicate with his followers via long distance. I hope Lucius will have some ideas.”

Now his voice caught in his throat. “If I’d never given her the locket, she never would have gotten that vision, and we wouldn’t have gone to the Ministry, and she’d still be alive.”

Sirius stopped his self-inflicted guilt trip. “And Elan and Percy would either be dead or still in his clutches. You saved two and lost one. Karmically, you’re one up.”

“That’s not funny.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, it’s not. Not everyone can be saved. Choices have consequences, and we have to learn to live with them. I made a choice to not be your parents’ Secret Keeper. As a result, they’re dead. I nearly gave in to my madness, but it’s a good thing I didn’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here with you. Surely that’s a good thing that came out of the bad.”

“Of course it is. Thanks, Sirius. I guess I just need some time to work this out then. I hope I can learn to accept it like you did.”

“Give it time, kiddo. It doesn’t happen overnight.”

Company was the perfect thing to distract Harry from his guilt. He ignored his homework folder, knowing he wouldn’t be able to focus appropriately. He headed back out to the common room.

Draco and Ginny were wrapped up together on a couch. Tracy was sitting by herself on a two-seater. Millie was sprawled out in a beanbag chair in front of the fireplace. Theo was reading a book of Dark curses.

Harry rolled his eyes. “For Merlin’s sake, Theo, put that away.”

Theo turned the page. “Nobody here is going to report me.”

“How do you know there isn’t somebody under a Disillusionment Charm or an invisibility cloak?” Harry said derisively. “What if there were an Animagus who could transform into a mouse hiding under the davenport? You can always be seen or overheard.”

Theo chuckled. “Davenport?”

“Shut up!” Pansy snapped at him.

“You shut up! Mind your business!”

“I’m a prefect! This is my business!”

“Put the book away,” Harry ordered, tired of their back and forth. “Otherwise I’ll have to confiscate it.”

Theo gripped his book tighter. “You are not taking my book.”

“I don’t want to,” Harry said, feeling like he was talking to a small child. “I want you to put it away, but you’re making the situation worse.”

Grumbling under his breath, Theo put the book in his bag. Then he stood up and went towards the dorm.

“Where are you going?” Pansy said.

“I’m putting it away,” he sassed back.

“Why was I ever worried about him not talking?” she asked, not seemingly speaking to any one person.

“Hey, Harry,” Ginny said.

Harry was glad for the distraction from Theo’s moodiness. “What’s up, Ginny?”

“Something, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry was curious.

“I got a letter from Percy. Apparently Lynn’s mother completely freaked out when he told her that he wants me to stand up with him at the wedding.” For some reason, Ginny didn’t sound too upset. She had a bit of a wicked grin on her face.

“Oh boy.”

Ginny nodded. “Yeah. She’s very traditional. She and mum can’t stand each other, which is putting everyone on edge. This is actually the one thing they agree on.”

“Your mum doesn’t want you to stand with Percy either?” Harry would be the first to admit he didn’t really understand mothers.

Her grin broadened. “More because it means you have to put a boy in the bride’s party, and finding a dress to fit a boy can be hard.” 

Harry gaped at her. “You’re having me on.”

She laughed merrily. “Of course I am, but she does object to having a boy on the bride’s side.”

“Having a girl escort a girl would bother them more, I think,” Harry noted.

Ginny laughed again. “I’ll tell Percy to suggest it.”

“You’re really going to be in the groom’s party?” Pansy said. “How very progressive.”

“Trying to be.”

“You must mean a lot to Percy.”

“He’s my favourite brother.”

* * *

 

The first meeting of the Duelling Club was held almost at the end of September. Harry wasn’t pleased with the delay, but until he had a handle on his class situation, he didn’t want to do much else. Now that he knew his routine, he felt better about adding to it. He had learned his lessons last year about overreach. 

Harry had a few new ideas for this year’s club. They were all gathered in the Great Hall after dinner. Harry waited for the chatter to die down before speaking.

“As we learned from Auror Baldi, physical fitness is important for magical fitness and effectiveness in combat. We do calisthenics already, and we’ll be doing a lot of those this year, but swimming can also give you a really good workout.”

“Swimming? Where?” said one voice from the back.

“The lake?”

“Are you mad?”

Harry held up his hands for quiet. “I’ve asked the castle to provide us with an indoor swimming pool.”

“Bigger than the one in the prefects bathroom?” Padma demanded angrily.

“Big enough to suit our needs,” Harry replied coolly. “Put your ego away, Padma. This is war. We must be ready at all costs.”

“Why not start a jogging group?” she suggested. “There’s plenty of spaces on the grounds to run.”

“Come winter, you’ll be running in five feet of snow,” Harry replied. “Those who wish to go running can, but I won’t. Whatever else you feel you have to do outside of this club in order to be thin and trim and combat ready, you should definitely do it.”

Padma got angry. “Did you just call me fat?”

“No, I think you did that to yourself. You want to go jogging, right?” Harry said, earning a chuckle from the rest of the club. “All joking aside, I can only do so much for you guys. There are plenty of hours when I’m not here that I’m putting myself through the paces as well. This is a time that works for most people, but you need to do more than just come to every meeting. Train on your own. Duel on your own. I want each house to organize itself and hold practices. I will be appointing Leftenants to head up the house groups. If you want to be considered, let me know. For today, we’re going to find out how many of you didn’t practice over the summer holiday. I know we can’t officially do magic over the holiday, but those of us who live with adult wizards can usually get away with it. If you legitimately couldn’t, I won’t admonish you.”

The Duelling Club meetings were going well. Harry was pleased with the lack of attrition among the members. They must have been practicing over the holiday. He was still trying to get time from Tonks, but her schedule wasn’t matching up well. As it was, he was able to persuade Professor Flitwick to pay them a visit.

“Good evening. Mister Potter- excuse me, Captain Potter -- and a great many of his friends -- have insisted that I have valuable insights on the subject of duelling. I do have a few, but I said to him they are not likely to be the sort you expect to hear. He said that made him want to hear them even more. Well, here I am, at last.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Duelling is called an art, a dance. I once thought so, but it is not. Duelling is deadly. Whenever magic is cast, there is the potential for life to be lost. Why do you think I have stressed safety so much in my lectures? You may have heard that I was once a champion duelist. So I was, once upon a time. I had a dozen victories and no defeats. I challenged the champion to a title match. I was young, boastful. The match was long and exhausting. A legal spell was cast with just the wrong timing, and before you could blink, I had killed my opponent.”

Harry found it difficult to believe that the diminutive Charms teacher, the most cheerful member of the staff, could have killed another being, even accidentally.

“The case was reviewed, and I was found not at fault. I was declared the champion, but I refused to take the title. I never defended it. I even snapped my wand out of guilt. It was a very long time before I ever picked up a wand again.”

Silence greeted this confession. To destroy the implement through which one focused and released one’s magic was unthinkable to them.

“Duelling is deadly, boys and girls. If you don’t understand that, then get out of here right now. Unless you’re prepared to accept responsibility for ending the life of another being, you are not ready to be here. I do not want anyone here who doesn’t take seriously the absolute power we command with a wave of our wands. We hold the power of gods and none of the wisdom.”

The students were absolutely still. You could have heard a pin drop.

“Were we not at war, I would not be here. Duelling is a choice, a stupid choice. Defending your life or the lives of your family is an obligation. I will help you fulfill your obligations and protect yourselves.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said loudly.

“Thank you, Professor,” they echoed.

Flitwick was amazing. He had no wasted motion. Every movement flowed into the next. His spell choices were incredibly varied but were stunningly effective. He quickly disposed of every single one of them. He stuck his vanquished opponents to the walls, well out of harm’s way.

At last it was down to just Flitwick and Harry. Harry nodded his head respectfully. “You truly are stellar, sir.”

“Thank you, Captain Potter. Would you care to have a go of it?”

“As you say, sir, duelling is a choice. I would much prefer not to risk injury by going against someone so clearly superior. No, I will not.”

“The only one to learn tonight’s lesson,” Flitwick said sadly.

“Yes, sir. I would instead like to practice my forms and hear your commentary.”

“Certainly.”

Most of the club was conscious as Harry ran through all of the advanced routines that Tonks had taught them. He knew his movements weren’t as fluid as Flitwick’s. He finished and stood there, breathing heavily from his exertions. He had made a couple of missteps, but overall he had done very well. Tonks would have been proud.

Flitwick was not.

“Sloppy, Captain Potter, very sloppy. When next I see you, I expect to see drastic improvement. You overextend. You leave yourself open to counter. You hesitate. Stop it. You must know what your options are as you move through a fight and be able to choose from them instantaneously. If nothing else, return to a guarded position rather than posing with your wand pointed.”

Flitwick’s castigation of their captain was very sobering for the Duelling Club. Harry was easily the best among them, and if he was getting a classic dressing down then they were also getting it and likely a bunch more just for their own selves.

“Work on your forms,” he admonished them. “I will return in two weeks, and you had better be less pathetic when I do. Good night.”

As he left the Great Hall, Harry marvelled at the difference in the normally chipper and cheerful Charms teacher. He’d never acted like this in class. Yes, he’d always stressed wand safety, but when they’d been dealing with nothing more complicated than the Summoning Charm, it hadn’t seemed important. Harry wouldn’t be able to sit in his lecture the same way ever again. Knowing that such grief and regret lurked just below the surface made him wonder how the little man kept up his front.

“You heard the Professor,” he said to the club. “Practice. Lots of it. Let’s get better. Good night.”

Harry let the crowd thin a bit before he headed back to the common room. Tracy and Daphne waited with him. Draco and Ginny walked off together. Pansy and Theo were bickering.

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Oh great. I see they’re back to normal.”

“There’s something comforting about it,” Tracy said.

“I guess.”

Daphne’s sister Astoria broke away from a discussion with the Carrow girls and came over to their group.

“Hey, Harry.”

“Hi, Tori.”

“Michelle tried to talk to Lucas about the other group. He skipped out on a study session or something, and she wanted to know where he was. He didn’t say anything, but she’s suspicious.”

“He can’t go around attracting attention like that,” Harry said. “I’ll have a talk with him. Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Gotta go. Homework beckons.”

“As always.”

She was gone in a flash, leaving a curious older sister. “Is she pestering you, Harry?”

“No, she’s fine.”


	13. Kreacher's Tale

The days flew by, and before Harry knew it, they were deep into October. The weather turned colder, and the first snow fell before the week was out. With the onset of winter, it was time to once again engage in house tradition.

Pansy called the first years together in the common room after classes on Friday. The fire roared cheerfully in the fireplace, filling the room with light and warmth. The faces of the firsties were washed in greenish light from the lanterns. Pansy stood before them, hands on her hips, wand in one hand.

“Okay, firsties. Listen up. You’re about to learn one of the secret Slytherin House spells. It is well-known that snakes are reptiles, and reptiles are cold-blooded. To keep us from going into hibernation, we use the Self-Warming Charm. It lasts for several hours, and if you ever use it in front of someone from another house, there will be consequences.”

Pansy demonstrated the charm.

“See? Easy as can be. It’ll feel like warm water running down your back. Get your wands out.”

They all had their wands. No one needed to go back to the dorm.

Pansy didn’t quit until all the first years were able to cast it. It had taken her ages, and now she got to be the patient one. Harry helped out a bit, unable to stop being the Duelling Captain.

“Keep them at it, Pansy. You’re doing great. I’ve got to run. I’ve got tea with Professor Slughorn to get to.”

She looked surprised. “You got invited to tea again?”

“I told you about it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

Harry sighed. “Well, I did, and I’ve got to go to it. I’ll see you at dinner, most likely.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Harry took the trip to Slughorn’s office at a casual stroll. His leisure gave him an unexpected encounter with Ron Weasley. As the red-haired boy appeared, Harry stifled a groan. His day had been going so well.

They closed to about five feet apart. Weasley’s hair had grown longer over the summer, and now he wore it pulled back in a very short ponytail. It didn’t look very good on him, but Harry decided not to mention it unless they got into an argument.

“Hi, Weasley.” He tried to keep his tone neutral.

“Hi, Potter.” Weasley was displaying uncharacteristic courtesy.

Harry genuinely had no idea what to say to Weasley. Small talk like asking about his favourite Quidditch team? How were classes going? Any plans for the Hogsmeade weekend?

“What’s up?” Harry said.

“Not much. Just headed up to my dorm to grab my broom and get some sky time in.”

“Sounds fun.” Harry had to admit that he missed that sort of life.

“I heard a rumour,” Weasley said salaciously, “that you quit the team. Is that true?”

It looked like they would indeed be talking about Quidditch.

“Nah, that’s just a rumour we put out there to create doubt among the other teams.”

“I’m on one of the other teams,” Weasley pointed out. “Doesn’t telling me defeat the purpose?”

Harry smirked. “Not really. You don’t believe anything I say, therefore you don’t believe that I haven’t quit the team.”

Weasley’s eyes scrunched up as he tried to follow the trail of negatives. “I believe that you have quit the team?”

Harry gave him a broad grin. “Do you believe that I’ve quit the team?”

Weasley threw up his hands. “I don’t know anymore!”

“Oh dear, I appear to have confused you.” Harry was doing his best to appear sympathetic.

He scowled. “Knock that off, Potter!”

Harry stopped taking the mickey and got serious again. “Sorry. Let’s put it this way: even if I have quit the team, I’m not going to tell you. I’m not going to tell anyone other than my teammates, and they won’t tell anyone either. Am I not going to practices because I’m not on the team or because I’m so damned good at Seeking that I don’t need to practice? Ponder these questions and many more, Weasley. I have an appointment to get to.”

“Merlin’s robes, I hate you, Potter,” Weasley said casually.

_ The feeling is mutual.  _ “Good evening.”

Weasley started cursing under his breath, which was a great improvement over his usual volume.

Harry arrived at Professor Slughorn’s office right on time.

“Ah, Harry! Do come in, my boy. Do come in. I’ve just got a bit of correspondence to finish up, but the tea is steeping. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry took a seat in the guest chair and leaned back with delight. He very much wanted to have these chairs in the common room.

“Have some of this magnificent peanut brittle.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry had never had it before and found it very crunchy.

Slughorn signed his name to the parchment with a flourish, folded and sealed the letter, stamped the wax, and set it to the side.

“There, that’s done. Just a bit of communication from Gwenog Jones.”

Harry swallowed hard. “The Chaser for Holyhead?”

“The very same,” Slughorn said delightedly. “She’s such a wonderful lady, so witty. I think you and she would hit it off tremendously. I must introduce you to her.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir.” He’d said so several times. When it would happen was anyone’s guess.

“Do you have any exciting plans for the Hogsmeade visit next weekend?” Slughorn inquired.

Harry shook his head. “Nothing in particular. The usual. I’m much more looking forward to this weekend. I’ve got a special pass to go home. Big family dinner.”

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” Slughorn refilled Harry’s teacup.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Harry didn’t feel like going into the details just then.

Slughorn stroked his moustache with one hand. “Well, family is important.”

Harry nodded. “It really is, sir. Sir, the last time we spoke, you said you’d tell me about my father. I’ve heard a lot from his friends, but I must admit I’m very curious what his teachers thought of him.”

Professor Slughorn’s face lit up, a broad smile from ear to ear. “Oh, James Potter was a delightful boy. Outgoing, gregarious, noble, decent, and too mischievous by far. He loved to laugh and have fun. He had such a sense of humour. He told jokes all the time. He once claimed that his dog ate his homework. The sheer cheek of the boy! Said it with a perfectly straight face, he did! As though dogs are allowed at Hogwarts! They tried it once, you know. Horrible ruckus at all hours of the day and night.”

“I can imagine, sir,” Harry said, trying not to break out laughing. That Marauder story was likely entirely too accurate. He’d have to remember to ask Sirius his side of things.

“James was a consummate joker, and Sirius was his partner in crime. Minerva used to go on and on about that pair in the staff room.” Slughorn shook his head. “That poor, poor woman. They should have turned her hair grey as iron over their seven years. She caught them planting confetti bombs in her office. They turned a flock of vampire bats loose on a class of my Slytherins and sealed the door to keep them from running away. They once turned the milk into prune juice.”

Harry was familiar with all of those exploits. The vampire bats must have been aimed at Snape. They’d started rumours that he was part-vampire.

Professor Slughorn’s smile faded a bit. “Sometimes their pranks weren’t as amusing. Sirius once told another student that they could find something interesting under the Whomping Willow, and that student would have been gravely injured if your father had not pulled him out. It was a student who hated your father, and your father was none too fond of him either, but he saved his life anyway.”

“Someone hated my dad?” Harry knew Slughorn had to be talking about Snape and was curious to see how much he would volunteer.

Slughorn considered the matter, taking a long sip of tea. “James had a number of conflicts with other students. At least once a month, he’d get detention for fighting with other boys and using magic outside of the classroom. He was quite the big man in the castle. He first got on the house team as a second year, Chaser. It was the only open position. Then he grew into the leader of the team. He was Captain by fourth year and led the team to victory for several years. In his seventh, he quit the team. He was Head Boy, and he kept the prefects council very active. He didn’t get a single detention in his seventh year.” He chuckled. “A marked change from all his previous years. The war was accelerating during that year, and he threw himself into a martial sort of preparation. He studied Charms, Transfiguration, Defence, and Potions. He started a study group for those who wished to work on those applications. He was an above average potionmaker. He never had the flair for it, certainly not like your mother, though he understood the subject well enough. I must confess, most of what I know of him comes through other people. I only saw him in class.”

Harry waited a moment before asking, “Who was the boy who hated him?”

“It was one of my Slytherins. The house rivalries were even stronger in those days, and a lot of ugliness took place when teachers weren’t looking, as I believe I mentioned when discussing your mother. The portraits can help some, but they can’t be everywhere. Well, young Mister Snape and young Mister Potter didn’t get on at all well.”

“Snape?”

“Yes, indeed.” Slughorn drank some more tea. “My goodness, where does the time go?”

“But about Professor Snape?” Harry wanted to know more.

“Next time, Harry. Next time.”

* * *

 

After breakfast, Harry took his written permission letter and went out of the front gate of the castle. He headed down the path to the village. He was supposed to meet Sirius at the platform.

The wind was brisk enough that he wished he’d worn a scarf. He cast the Self-Warming Charm, glad once more to be in Slytherin.

Sirius was leaning up against the corner of the platform and the stairs. He had dressed appropriately, wearing a heavy travelling cloak with a deep cowl.

“Hi, Sirius.” It was really good to see him in person and not through the mirror.

“Hi, Harry. Ready to go?”

“You bet.”

They held hands, but Harry really Apparated himself. They appeared in the central hall of Number Twelve, which had been designated the Apparition point.

Harry needed to use the loo. “Sirius, I’ll meet you in the sitting room.”

When he had answered the call of nature, he washed his hands and headed to the sitting room. He rooted in his pocket and pulled out the locket, running his thumb over the ‘S’.

A hundred memories of Laine flashed through his head, of her laughing, smiling, and enticing. He imposed order on his mind, not letting himself be overcome with emotion.

So focused was he that he nearly tripped over Kreacher, who had stopped dead in his tracks, staring intently at the locket dangling from Harry's hand.

"Master Harry has broken Master Regulus' locket," he whispered.

"What?" Harry was confused.  _ Why does he care so much? _

"Master Harry has broken Master Regulus' locket!"

The old elf stalked intently forward, and Harry went for his wand -- just in case.

"Master Harry has broken Master Regulus' locket! Hurray! Hurray!" he cheered.

Kreacher lunged and hugged Harry's leg tightly. If Harry hadn't taken a half-step back, both legs would have been caught, and they'd likely have ended up on the floor in a tangled heap.

"Kreacher? Calm down. Get ahold of yourself."

Harry had never seen a house elf act so excited about anything, even at the prospect of lots of work to do. He half-expected the elf to start humping his leg like a dog.

“It’s broken! It’s broken!” Kreacher babbled.

“Sirius!” Harry yelled. “Can you come here, please?”

Sirius began laughing as soon as he walked into the hall. “Kreacher, calm down. Master commands.”

The old elf stopped bouncing up and down, but he did not let go of Harry’s leg. He gazed up at Harry almost adoringly. It was not like anything Harry had ever experienced from the elf.

“What happened?” Sirius asked.

“I don’t know. Kreacher just latched onto me and started going on about this locket.”

“Locket?”

Harry held it out. “We found it when we cleaned house after we moved in. Remember how it wouldn’t open? I gave it to Laine for Christmas. It’s the only thing of her that didn’t go through the- the veil.”

“It’s open now,” Sirius noticed.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, the insides are all broken, but he’s happy about that. He says it belongs to your brother, but it doesn’t follow that he’s happy to see it broken.”

Sirius looked down at the family servant. “Kreacher, explain yourself.”

“Yes, Master!” Kreacher said brightly.

"You called the locket Master Regulus'," said Harry. "Did it used to belong to him?"

Kreacher’s face grew solemn. "Master Sirius ran away, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress's heart with his lawless ways.” Sirius snorted, and Harry shot him a glare. “But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns, and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve. One day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said…he said…" 

The old elf hugged himself tightly.

"…he said that the Dark Lord required an elf." 

"Voldemort needed an elf?" Harry repeated, looking at Sirius, who looked just as puzzled as he did. 

"Oh yes," moaned Kreacher. "Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do…and then to c-come home." 

Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs. 

"So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake…There was a boat…There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it…" 

The elf quaked from head to foot. 

"Kreacher drank, and as he drank he saw terrible things…Kreacher's insides burned…Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed…He made Kreacher drink all the potion…He dropped a locket into the empty basin…He filled it with more potion. 

"And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island…" 

Harry could see it happening. He watched Voldemort's white, snakelike face vanishing into darkness, those red eyes fixed pitilessly on the thrashing elf whose death would occur within minutes, whenever he succumbed to the desperate thirst that the burning poison caused its victim…But here, Harry's imagination could go no further, for he could not see how Kreacher had escaped. 

The elf continued, "Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake…and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface…" 

"How did you get away?" Harry asked, and he was not surprised to hear himself whispering. 

Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes. 

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he said simply.

"I know – but how did you escape the things in the lake?" 

Kreacher did not seem to understand. 

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he repeated. 

"I know, but –"

Sirius interrupted. “He did the elf version of Apparating, Harry. Wizards can’t do it at Hogwarts, but elf magic is different enough that they can.”

Harry mulled that over silently.  _ How could Voldemort have made such a mistake? _

"Of course, Voldemort would have considered the ways of house-elves far beneath his notice. It would never have occurred to him that they might have magic that he didn't." 

"The house-elf's highest law is his Master's bidding," intoned Kreacher. "Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home." 

"You did what you were told," said Harry kindly. "You didn't disobey orders at all.” 

Kreacher shook his head, rocking as fast as ever. 

"So what happened when you got back?" Sirius asked intently. "What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?" 

"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then…it was a little while later…Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell…and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord…" 

And so they had set off. Harry could visualize them quite clearly. Kreacher knew how to open the concealed entrance to the underground cavern, knew how to raise the tiny boat: this time it was his beloved Regulus who sailed with him to the island with its basin of poison… 

"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had," said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snout-like nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets…" 

Kreacher's sobs came in great rasps now; Harry had to concentrate hard to understand him. 

"And he ordered – Kreacher to leave – without him. And he told Kreacher – to go home – and never to tell my Mistress – what he had done – but to destroy – the first locket. And he drank – all the potion – and Kreacher swapped the lockets – and watched…as Master Regulus… was dragged beneath the water…and…" 

"So you brought the locket home," Harry said, for he was determined to know the full story. "And you tried to destroy it?" 

"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," moaned the elf. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work…So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open… Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave…" 

Kreacher began to sob so hard that there were no more coherent words.  Even Sirius, who was no fan of Kreacher's, looked troubled. Harry sat back on his heels and shook his head, trying to clear it. 

“But Master Harry has done it! Master Harry has broken the locket, just as Master Regulus commanded. My poor Master can rest peacefully now.”

Harry could hardly believe what he’d heard. He looked at Sirius. “I gave my girlfriend something that once belonged to Voldemort?” he said, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat.

“You couldn’t have known, Harry,” Sirius said. “Kreacher, thank you for telling us. You did well. Regulus and I are both proud of you.”

Kreacher wailed freshly and latched onto Sirius’ leg. A few words were comprehensible.

Sirius awkwardly reached down and patted the house-elf on the shoulder. “There, there,” he said, glancing helplessly at Harry.

Gradually, Kreacher began to calm down.

“Kreacher will make dinner, Master," he said, still sniffling a bit, "a dinner such as this ancient house has never eaten before. There will be a hundred courses.”

Sirius looked at Harry. “You realize we’ll never talk him out of this.”

“Most likely.”

“Very well, Kreacher,” Sirius said. “You may prepare your feast, but once the food is ready to eat, you will sit down and eat with us.”

The old elf was horrified at this idea. “Kreacher is not worthy, Master.”

“That’ll be enough of that talk," Sirius said sternly. "You helped me learn the truth about my brother, a truth that makes me love him even more. You have served your family well and will be rewarded. Eating one meal with us is a good place to start.”

“Master is too generous,” he croaked. “Kreacher only does his duty. Kreacher goes to begin the feast.”

Without being dismissed, Kreacher vanished. The rattle of pots and pans could be heard from the kitchen.

Sirius glanced upwards for a moment and sighed. “We’d better invite people over. There’s no way we can eat a hundred courses.”

“Right.”

Once the invitations were sent and accepted, Harry and Sirius settled into comfortable chairs in the sitting room and simply talked. There was a lot to catch up on. They talked most nights through the mirror, but others things constantly pulled Harry’s attention away. Today they drank tea, ate scones, and really talked. They spoke of everything and nothing, and Harry was blissfully happy as they had a light lunch and a nap before dinner.

The extended Black family came together again that night. Harry, Elan, Draco, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Lucius, Narcissa, Ted, and Andromeda were joined by Bridget Sawyer, Elan’s fiancée.

There were seven courses; Kreacher had exaggerated just a tiny bit. “Masters could never eat a hundred courses. Master would not like Kreacher wasting food.”

“You’re most thoughtful, Kreacher,” Sirius said gratefully. “Now, if all the food is served, you will join us at the table.”

Kreacher fell to the floor at Sirius' feet. “Master is too kind. Too noble. Kreacher is only a lowly house-elf.”

“You listened to my mother for far too long,” Sirius declared in a tone that brooked no argument, especially not from the subservient house elf.

“Mistress treated Kreacher well!” he said, somewhat dubiously.

Sirius shook his head. “Mistress is dead and gone, Kreacher. Answer me honestly: do we treat you better than my mother did?”

Kreacher trembled and sobbed. “Yes, Master.”

“I was unkind to you when I was younger,” Sirius admitted. “For that I am truly sorry. You have served this family well for many years. You revealed to us the truth of my brother’s death. Regulus died fighting against the Dark Lord. He may have taken the Dark Mark, but he came to see his mistake. As it happens, I know someone else who has been saying the same thing.”

Lucius suddenly looked very alert.

“If my brother can turn back, I suppose you can too, Lucius," Sirius said. "Let the past be the past. I will gladly call you cousin.”

Lucius looked like he’d been hit with a Petrification Hex. Sirius embraced him.

“Kreacher, for helping to heal this family, I will grant you anything you ask for.”

The elf bowed low again. “Kreacher needs nothing, Master. Only the chance to serve.”

“I see I must come up with the rewards myself,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “Very well, you will move out of your hidey-hole in the basement and into one of the unused rooms. The smallest room,” he added hastily, seeing Kreacher about to start bawling again. “You will also eat dinner with us tonight. We eat in memory of Master Regulus. Surely you would not refuse to honour him.”

Kreacher hesitantly took a seat in the empty chair. He sat on the very edge.

Sirius raised his wineglass. “I’d like to propose a toast. To Regulus Arcturus Black, my brother, a boy who made a mistake but did his best to rectify it, who was brave enough to turn against the most evil wizard in a generation.”

“To Regulus,” everyone said, and they drank.

“To Kreacher,” Sirius continued, holding up his glass in the house-elf’s direction. “A true and loyal elf, a faithful servant of our house.”

The old elf, already overwhelmed by sitting at the table with wizards as an equal, burst into tears again as everyone raised their glasses a second time.

Dinner was magnificent. Kreacher had outdone himself, which was hard to do. Harry ate until he couldn’t eat anymore. He stayed at the table as the food slowly began to digest, sipped wine, and managed to stuff some treacle tart in for dessert.

After dinner, the talk turned to updates on the recent forays into trying to find alliances for wizarding Britain against Voldemort. Harry explained that he had not heard back from Fleur. Rather to say, Fleur had not had any response to any of her inquiries. 

Lucius reported having met with the American advisor, although Lockhart's recent antics in that country had caused something of a strain. It seemed he had managed to evade capture once again.

"Speaking of Lockhart,” Draco interjected, “there is another potential ally we could approach.”

“Lockhart?” Harry was confused.

“No. What do you know of dwarfs?"

"Dwarfs?" Harry wracked his brain. "Lockhart hired some of them in our second year to dress up as cupids and act as messengers all day."

"A sad and sorry state for such an honourable people," Remus struck in.

“They are known for taking most unpleasant work,” Lucius said. “They are also home to one of the best mining guilds the world has ever known.”

“We need a mine?” Harry said.

“We need a tunnel.”

Harry was confused. “Why?”

Lucius leaned back and gazed skyward. “While I was in America, I did have some time to myself. I gave much thought to our little mystery item. I looked into the sorts of magic that might achieve the known effects. I can tell you definitively that it was Dark magic. I’m not entirely certain of what kind. My research was interrupted before I could narrow down the list any further. Professor Lochmaster has quite the private library, and of course the school’s library is impressive also. It’s nothing compared to Hogwarts, naturally, but they have managed to gather most of the important books on Dark magic. If I had more time, perhaps I might be able to learn more.”

Harry was still confused. “What does that have to do with dwarfs?”

Lucius’ next words were pitched low and hard to hear. “I have thought long and hard on what I now tell you. Many years ago, the Dark Lord entrusted me with an object. He told me to secret it away.”

“What was this object?” Harry’s voice was also hushed.

“It was a book that the Dark Lord filled with foul magic.” Lucius took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He said it held the key to opening the Chamber of Secrets.”

Harry went rigid. A book? Or a diary? His eyes flashed to Draco, who looked confused.

“Where is this book now?” Sirius asked.

“Destroyed,” Lucius said, sounding relieved. “By Harry. I allowed it to slip out of my possession. The Ministry was conducting raids. I couldn’t risk the book being lost. I was intended to secure it in Gringotts. The goblins don’t care about Dark magic, but I don’t trust them. Money is one thing, but crucial artefacts? No. But the risk was too great. I had picked up an unwanted follower-”

“An Auror?”

“I don’t know what he was. I didn’t meet the fellow. I staged a confrontation with Arthur Weasley and slipped the book into his daughter’s cauldron, and the book eventually possessed the girl. I knew she was pureblood and would therefore be unharmed, but when she was caught, her father would be humiliated and his influence eliminated. Even I did not foresee what would happen next. Harry said that when he spoke to the manifestation of Tom Riddle, he used the word ‘soul’ several times. That is a vital clue, I think. I must consult other books, rarer books.”

“That was you?” Harry said, his mouth suddenly dry.

Lucius nodded gravely. “The Dark Lord was not coming back. I had to get rid of the book, and Weasley was an inconvenience. At the same time, the Dark Lord presented Bellatrix with a magnificent golden cup. Now we learn about this locket, which he went to great lengths to hide and protect. If the locket was anything like the book was, then the cup might also be, and it’s clear that it needs to be destroyed.”

Sirius scratched his chin. “That’s very true, but I’m not sure what this has to do with dwarfs.”

"As was I, Bellatrix was ordered to keep it safe in her vault at Gringotts. We must break in and steal it."

Harry’s jaw (as well as everyone else’s) dropped. "Break into Gringotts? Are you mad?"

"Dwarfen miners are the best in the world, for they work with magic as well as steel. They can get us inside the goblin tunnels."

Harry remembered what was carved on the front doors of the bank. 

 

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed.

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

 

He asked, "Do we really want to go offending the goblins by breaking into their bank?"

"It would not be the first time wizards have offended goblins,” Lucius said grimly. “I would rather see the Dark Lord dead."

"How do we get in touch with them? Do you have business contacts with them?"

Lucius shook his head. "No, I've never pursued that particular line of business. Not a wide enough profit margin, you see. Their goods are so frightfully expensive already, and I can't move enough of them to justify the space they'll occupy in my warehouses. I have a few connexions who might be able to put us in touch with their leaders, but it would take time and I have a better idea. For some years now Weasley has been working in the Ministry's Centaur Liaison Office. In his vast amounts of spare time, he has read up on every magical race that doesn't have a specific office, to assist them should they ever need it. If there is anyone who knows the right way to go about potentially inciting war between goblins and dwarfs, it will be him."

“Will he do you any favours?” Sirius said.

“Reluctantly. I shall go first thing on the morrow.”

Harry knew they couldn’t afford to lose the opportunity. “Perhaps someone should go with you. If he doesn’t like you, maybe we’ll be more persuasive.”

Lucius nodded and turned to Sirius. “Very well. Cousin, you may come with me.”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?” Lucius retorted. “The Blacks have always been leaders of our society. You are the head of the Black family. Weasley’s own mother was Cedrella Black. Perhaps you could appeal to him to help us. Actually, as I think on it, I like this idea more and more. You should come with me.”

“I should go too,” Harry said.

“Oh should you?” Sirius said. “Please elaborate.”

“I’ve got some influence on him. I saved his only daughter from certain doom three years ago. We all just rescued his son from the Death Eaters. I think I could get him to see things my way.”

Lucius considered that for a moment. “Very well. Sirius?”

Sirius sighed. “I hate the game of influence. But you’re right. Harry could be very persuasive in ways that we can’t. We’ll both go.”

“Excellent,” Lucius said.

Lucius soon retired to his office. Narcissa went back to planning weddings. Sirius went back to Grimmauld Place to take a nap.

Harry turned to Draco. “Let’s go lift some weights.”

As they lifted, they had little breath for idle chat. As they took a break for some water, Draco shook his head.

“You gave your girlfriend something that once belonged to Voldemort?”

Harry winced. “Yeah, looks like it." He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "And your father gave your girlfriend something that also once belonged to him. I’d say you’ve got the bigger issue to deal with. I’ve got some angst to work through, but Ginny might kill you once she finds out.”

Draco looked grave. “Well then, she can’t know.”

Harry's mouth dropped open for the second time that night. “Draco, you have to tell her.”

He looked aghast. “And get myself killed?”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What do you think she’ll do if she finds out some other way?”

“Who’s going to tell her? You?” Draco's eyes narrowed.

“I would never, but Draco, this is huge.”

“You don’t think I realize that?" Draco threw his arms wide. "My father gave my girlfriend the single biggest horrible experience of her life. He exposed her to unspeakable evil, and in the process damn near resurrected it. How am I supposed to tell her that? How do I stop her from killing me, from trying to kill him? This is the sort of thing that blood feuds start over.”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. I would tell you if I could. Maybe we give her a strong dose of Calming Draught first.”

“That Prewett temper they talk about?" Draco snorted. "She’s going to turn it on me, and I’m going to die.”

“Did you know your father gave Ginny that book?”

“Not until now. I told him all about what we did in second year, and he said he was very proud of me.” Draco seemed to sit up a bit straighter. “But if he gave her that book, then I was just filling him in on how his scheme turned out.”

“You don’t think he might have done it deliberately?” Harry asked tentatively.

Draco blinked. “Why would he do that?” 

“To revive Voldemort, kill all the Muggleborns in the school, and generally be an evil sot?”

“Why would he do that? Our lives have been great since Voldemort fell. We’ve gotten richer. We don’t get tortured by a nutter for whatever reason he feels like. We have power and influence. We have every measure of success.”

Harry frowned. “And your father used an eleven year old girl in heinous ways to eliminate a political opponent.”

Draco groaned. “What do I do?”

Harry wished he had a good answer.

* * *

 

On Sunday morning, Harry accompanied Sirius and Lucius to the Ministry. So as to avoid recognition, Harry wore an Irish cap pulled low over his forehead. Without the scar, he was just another boy with dark hair.

They Apparated directly into the Atrium, bypassing the normal visitor’s entrance. Security was very tight.

They were diverted into an anteroom for ninety minutes while any Polyjuice Potion they might have taken wore off. This delay made Lucius very nervous, as he could not spend more than 33 minutes in one place without drawing a Death Eater attack.

Their wands were logged and inspected for recent Dark magic. Harry was glad he’d spent several hours working on non-verbal Charms, and all the Auror on duty found were various minor spells that he’d learned in earlier school years.

Once they were cleared to enter the Ministry itself, they moved to the lift and went down to level 4.

The Centaur Liaison Office was a part of the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The halls here were nowhere near as grand as the corridors on level 1. No wood was found here. The walls were painted a boring pale brown. Harry looked around, not sure which of the six ways they were going. All the doors were closed and unmarked. There was no directory or index to enlighten them.

"This way," Lucius said confidently, taking the lead.

"How can you tell?" Sirius said. "They all look the same."

Lucius smiled beatifically. "Trust me."

Sirius groaned. "Do I have to?"

At the end of this hall, there was a door plainer than all the rest, without even a doorknob. Lucius pushed open the door with his cane.

Arthur Weasley was a tall, skinny man with thinning red hair. He would be totally bald within ten years. He looked up at them with watery blue eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. 

"Great Godric, visitors!" he said as the door opened.

"Good morning, Weasley,” Lucius said amicably.

Mr. Weasley’s face fell. "Oh, good morning, Malfoy. Have you made a wrong turn?"

Lucius chuckled politely. "No, we have come to see you."

"What ever have I done to deserve that?” he said rhetorically. “Well, I suppose even you are better than sitting here in absolute silence for yet another day."

Lucius smiled slightly. "How is your family?"

Mr. Weasley’s eyes went frosty. "Why do you ask?"

Lucius feigned surprise. "I understand Percy has proposed to Lynn Fawcett. You must be very pleased."

"Yes, certainly." He didn’t sound at all happy.

Lucius continued to be polite. "He is the first of your many children to get married, yes?"

Mr. Weasley didn’t change his posture at all. "He is."

"May he produce a strong son."

"Thank you." Mr. Weasley turned to Harry. “Harry Potter, it is a pleasure to meet you properly. Our last meeting was quite anonymous, I realize. We never asked your name that evening on the Knight Bus.”

“No, sir.”

“You are quite the divisive figure in my house. Half of my children want to hex you, and the other half would hex the first for doing it.”

Harry wasn’t really sure how to respond to that, so he fell back on the Slytherin House rules and blamed someone else. “Ron started it. I said hello to him the first day after we’d been Sorted, and he sneered that he wanted nothing to do with a slimy Slytherin.”

Mr. Weasley shook his head. “He listens to his brothers too much. Charlie would rant about the Slytherin Quidditch team whenever he was home, and that influenced the twins. They were probably ready to sabotage the Slytherins from the moment they got to Hogwarts. Then they joined the team. I suppose I should have put a stop to it, but I didn’t think it anything other than harmless schoolboy sport rivalry.”

“The house feud has really gotten out of control,” Harry commented. “I’ve been working on getting the houses to cooperate in the Duelling Club, and I’m having a fair bit of success. Ron’s irrational prejudice has made things harder. Everyone’s prejudice has, really. He’s just one of the most vocal.”

“I’ll have a talk with him. Hogwarts must remain strong.” Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "What do you want here today?"

"Manners, Weasley," Lucius chided gently. "Just because you’re barely employed here at the Ministry is no reason to be rude."

Mr. Weasley’s eyes went from kind to flat faster than a speeding hippogriff. "And who do I have to thank for that, Malfoy? It was your abominable Magical Child Protection Act and the miserable budget that followed that eliminated my old job. And look how that turned out!"

Lucius ignored the bait. "The current situation has provided many opportunities for the properly motivated wizard. Why have you not tried for another position?"

Mr. Weasley folded his arms across his chest. "I have, but for some reason, nobody wants anything to do with me. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?"

Lucius laughed slightly. "I assure you, I have much better things to do than make your life miserable. Besides, you have done a remarkable job on that front yourself."

Mr. Weasley sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Did you want something, Lucius, or did you just want to annoy me?"

"Strange as it may be," Lucius said languidly, "you are in a position to help me greatly. If your aid is fruitful, perhaps we might even see about getting you out of here.”

“Oh?” Mr. Weasley said in a guarded tone. “Well, this is a special day, isn’t it?”

Lucius said, “Tell me, Weasley, are you familiar with the race of dwarfs?"

"Yes. I've read a lot about them," said Mr. Weasley. "I haven't had much to do around here except read. I can't believe it's finally coming in useful."

"Get on with it, Weasley," Lucius said impatiently.

Mr. Weasley gave him a superior look. "Their warrior caste was wiped out a century ago in a war with the goblins. Now the worker and religious castes remain. Dwarfen craftsmen are some of the finest in the world, but many of their people have nothing to sell but themselves. Without a warrior caste, there are too many apprentices for the great masters to teach. The rise of an underclass is one of their current problems, and the religious caste are struggling with swollen ranks of their own. They must take more of a share of the crop, and the workers are left with even less. They have a lot of very real problems, and their society is on the verge of collapse."

"That's all very interesting," Lucius said. "Can you put us in touch with some of the Mining Guild?"

"The Mining Guild?” Mr. Weasley said with evident surprise. “I suppose I could. Need a private torture chamber constructed, Lucius?"

Lucius’ expression could have shattered a mirror. "It's none of your concern, Weasley. I wish to arrange a private meeting as soon as possible."

Mr. Weasley was making notes. "Your place or theirs?"

"Theirs."

"I'll take care of it.”

“Thank you. I await your owl.”

“Anything else I can do for you today?"

Lucius smiled now. “Not in an official capacity, no, but I wonder if I might ask about your daughter.”

Mr. Weasley’s stare could have turned lesser people into stone.

“Has she made any complaint to you about Draco’s behaviour during their courtship?” Lucius seemed almost impudent now, having turned the tables. “If she has, then tell me so I may punish him. I know as her father your protective instincts are strong. If you seek justice, seek it from me now.”

After a pause so tense it was past, present, and future, Mr. Weasley shook his head. “She hasn’t complained of any unwanted advances. It’s not just the unwanted ones I worry about, though. You know as well as I do what boys and girls get up to at that age. I accept that Ginny might as well, but I would want it to be with a good boy.”

Normally that sort of comment would be enough to rile Lucius up, but he sat there calmly. “You are saying Draco isn’t good enough for her?”

Mr. Weasley’s return gaze was steady. “That’s what I’m saying, Lucius.”

“And why not?”

“Too closely related, for one thing. Aren’t they second cousins?”

“Third, I think.”

“Too close. The bloodlines are thin enough, Lucius. They must be renewed with infusions from the Muggleborns.”

“The Muggleborns should marry each other and produce new pureblood lines. Then we should let them merge. No taint of Muggle must remain.”

Mr. Weasley shook his head. “We’re never going to agree on this, Lucius. Let’s just let it drop. I don’t like that your son is dating my daughter, but there’s not much I can do about it. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Lucius smiled. “Of course.”

Since they were already in the Ministry, they decided to swing up and see how Percy and Elan were doing.

“Father!” Elan said with surprise when they entered the office. He was seated next to an attractive brunette, and they were sorting through the post.

“Good morning, Elan.”

Harry said, “Is Percy available?”

“I think he might be done with his meeting with the Dutch ambassador.”

Harry opened the door and went inside.

Lucius said, “How are you?”

“Well, Father. I am very well. How are you?”

“Same as ever.”

Elan smiled faintly. “So you can’t stay long.”

“No.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“You are my son,” Lucius said simply.

“So I am.”

“How do you find working for the Ministry?”

Elan grinned. “It’s not so bad. I have to advise the Director probably about half the time. For the rest, I get busywork to do. I can’t wait to go back to the family business.”

They embraced for a brief moment.

“Give my love to Mother.”

“I will.”

* * *

 

Harry knocked on the door as he opened it. Percy was at his desk signing some parchments.

He looked up. “Hello, everyone. This is a surprise.”

“We were in the neighborhood,” Harry said.

“That’s awfully thoughtful of you to remember me. I am impressed that you caught me at a free moment. It’s ending soon, I’m afraid. I have another call in a few minutes.”

“We can’t stay either. Just passing through. Excited about the wedding?”

Percy got a goofy grin on his face. “Yes. Oh my goodness, I am excited. So many of the details are undecided at this point. I’m kind of glad I let Elan talk me into switching dates.”

“You switched dates?”

“I forget who I’ve told what at this point,” Percy said apologetically. “Originally Elan wanted to have his wedding at Easter. Then Bridget wanted snow. Real snow. It couldn’t be magic snow, because she could tell the difference. She made him move it to New Year’s, and now I’m the one getting married at Easter.”

“I think Lynn is also, so you’re not ‘the one’.” Harry enjoyed being a stickler for details sometimes, especially with someone as fastidious as Percy.

“True. I’m one of the two getting married at Easter.”

“Better.”

Percy stuck his tongue out. “Critic.”

“Takes one to know one,” Harry laughed before turning serious. "Look, I want to thank you again for asking me to be in the wedding party. It's an honor."

"It's nothing, Harry. I wouldn't have considered anyone before you."

“Just let me know when I have to be where and what I have to do once I get there. I’ll take it at that point.”

Percy nodded. “I bet you will. It’s not hard. You just have to walk one of the bridesmaids down the aisle. When you get to the front, you split and stand on either side. Then you stand there for awhile. When all the words have been said, you move back to the center and escort the same bridesmaid back down the aisle.”

_ Doesn’t sound too hard, _ Harry thought. “I think I can handle that.”

Percy smiled. “I’m really glad you’ll be standing up there with me, Harry. You’ve been a good friend to me and to my sister.”

“I’m proud you asked me,” Harry said.

Percy looked back down at his desk wearily. “Well, I don’t mean to kick you out, but I’ve got to kick you out. Send Elan in, would you please?

“Sure thing.”

Their business at the Ministry lasted until lunchtime, whereupon they returned to Number Twelve. Lucius returned home to Malfoy Manor.

Kreacher made lunch while Harry talked with Sirius and played cards. After they had finished eating, Harry said goodbye to Sirius and Apparated back to Hogsmeade station. He went up to the school, put his wand to the gates, and announced himself.

“Harry Potter, prefect of this school, returning from authorized absence.”

The gates swung open. Harry wished he had his broom with him as he set off up the path to the castle.

 


	14. Nothing But The Truth

Harry had been excused from prefect meetings, but he needed to address the council, so he went the Tuesday evening before the Hogsmeade weekend. It was the first session he’d been to this year. His tolerance for the tedium had not improved. He wondered if any person who had a chance of being made a prefect would be able to run the meetings with even a smidgen of liveliness. He would much prefer to see a meeting run by a Head Boy who wasn’t a prefect. It wasn’t common, but it did happen every now and again. His own father had been the last.

_ Can’t say I miss it. I am so bored. _

The Head Boy this year was Biff Webster, from Ravenclaw. The Head Girl was a Hufflepuff named Stephanie Atkinson. Harry knew Biff from Quidditch as well as prefect council. His first thought was how this new responsibility would cut into Webster’s practice time. Then Harry remembered he didn’t play Quidditch anymore.

At last --  _ AT LAST _ \-- they were done with old business.

"Any new business?" the Head Boy said.

"Seek the floor?" Harry spoke quickly. He wanted to say his piece and get out.

"The chair recognizes the gentleman from Slytherin. At least we think we do. You are Harry Potter, yes? You are a Slytherin prefect?"

Harry ignored him. He wasn’t worth the time. "Thank you. My fellow prefects, I speak to you tonight as the captain of the Duelling Club. Last year, the prefects had certain duties in that regard. Those duties will continue this year. For the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, I'll need you all to patrol the village."

"You got a bag of gold for us too, Potter?" Ernie MacMillan piped up.

Harry glared at him with a long moment of disdainful silence. "Are you really just such a snot that you'd refuse to help people unless you got paid? No, I don't have a bag of gold to bribe you with. No, there is no opportunity for self-gain here. But if you’re not willing to stand up and protect the school and the students without such low motivations, then I don’t think you ought to be wearing that badge. I’ll speak to Professor Sprout this very evening.”

MacMillan rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up, Potter. It was just a joke. You don’t need to go off on a rant.”

Harry wasn’t feeling particularly charitable. “Don’t tell me what I need to do, MacMillan.”

The other boy’s face started getting red. “Oh, I haven’t even started.”

Webster interrupted. “MacMillan, you’re out of order. Continue, Potter.”

“You’ll find your patrol assignments waiting for you back in the dorms. If you have any issues, work them out amongst yourselves. I don’t want to hear it. Let me know about any changes Friday after dinner.”

The Head Boy shook his head. “I would like some clarification from the Headmaster regarding how much authority you really have, especially over this council.”

“The Educational Decree establishing the Duelling Club-”

“Does not address the position of Captain. Last year, you got your authority from Umbridge. Where does it come from this year?”

Harry couldn’t believe they were questioning him on procedure. “The Headmaster himself told me to continue the Duelling Club.”

“Does the Captain still outrank the Head Boy and Girl?” Webster challenged him.

“Yes,” Harry said firmly.

“I say otherwise.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, bully for you.”

“I think we should take it to the Headmaster.”

“I think we should put it to a vote. All in favour of letting the Head Prat continue his whiny ego-trip?”

“Hey!” he said, as no one raised their hand.

“All in favour of getting on with the important business of protecting the students?”

All of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, most of the Gryffindors, and about a third of the Ravenclaws raised their hands.

“Looks like I’m in charge,” Harry said. “I’ll allow you two to continue to run the council for now. I really don’t care what goes on in here unless it relates to protecting the students. In those matters, though, you’ll just be another prefect. Chain of command is very important. I want the Head Girl in charge of this council if we are attacked. I know not all of you are in Duelling Club anymore, and you are missed. You can assist in other ways, and you should follow the lead of the Head Girl.”

Webster was fuming, but having been shown-up, he kept silent.

“As I was saying, you’ll find your patrol schedules back in the dorms. Work out any switches you need to. Let me know what those changes are. Thank you all for your efforts.”

* * *

 

Despite all of his apprehensive expectations, Harry actually enjoyed the little gatherings of the “Slug Club”. It was a chance to completely let go of school stuff for a time and talk about things that interested them. There was Quidditch talk, of course, but also discussion about business, about making a living doing what one enjoyed. Neville was a whiz at Herbology and loved the greenhouses, so Professor Slughorn urged him to open his own and grow high value specimens.

“People will pay well for what they believe to be valuable,” he said. “Perception builds or destroys the value. Be a complete master of the presentation, and you will always command top rate. Why, how do you think I got this office?”

They chuckled politely.

“Speaking of showing value, I suppose now is a good time to tell you all that on the twentieth of December, I will be hosting my annual Christmas party here in the castle. You are all invited. It will be a semi-formal affair, so make sure to dress nicely. There will be a lot of guests from outside the castle. You should all bring a date. We’ll have live music. It’s always a great deal of fun.”

Aside from the Yule Ball in Harry’s fourth year, he’d not a lot of experience with formal dances. Pansy and Daphne had taught him how to dance a few steps, but there were few opportunities to practice.

He was also bothered by the instruction that he should bring a date. He wasn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, he rather wanted to ask Tracy to the party. He felt safe with her. Spending time with her was nice, her presence soothing. Yet if they went together, they would have to talk about how they were going, whether as friends or something more. Harry wasn’t sure he knew the answer to that.

Just then, the bell rang once for near-curfew.

“Good night, everyone,” Slughorn said, standing at the door.

The Carrow girls headed for the dungeons. Melinda Bobbin went to much the same direction. 

Harry fell in step with Neville. “Hey, let’s go for a walk.”

“All right,” the Gryffindor boy said after a moment of thought.

“Hey, Longbottom,” Zabini said. “Where are you off to?”

Neville’s smile became a bit fixed. “I assume Captain Potter wants to talk about appointing me as the Leftenant from Gryffindor.”

“How right you are, Neville,” Harry said.

“Shall we go for a private walk so we may discuss the terms of this arrangement?”

“Certainly, my good man,” Harry said pompously. “Zabini, be a good lad and bugger off, would you? The Leftenant and I have secret plans to discuss.”

Zabini scowled at him. “Evil plans, more like.”

“Piss  _ off _ , Zabini.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” He slouched away.

Harry and Ginny were headed directly to the seventh floor. Neville followed. 

“So, what’s going on?” Neville asked when they were alone.

“Just a bit of a meeting. More of the summer thing.”

“I see. Well, I didn’t really want to work on that essay for Snape anyway.”

“Bad move,” Ginny said.

“Probably. Oh well. Ever since I got my new wand, I’ve been loads better than I used to be, so even Snape hasn’t been able to complain too much.”

“Wish I could get a new wand,” she said. “My Uncle Gideon’s old wand suits me fairly well, but it’s not a perfect fit.”

“Maybe you need a late birthday present,” Harry speculated.

The tips of her ears turned red. “That’s not necessary.”

“We’ll see.”

The meeting that night was in the Room of Requirement. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about letting a Gryffindor into the Chamber of Secrets. While the dorms were probably safe, they were the house common rooms for a reason. There were other spaces in the vast castle where students could and did meet. Inter-house study groups for advanced subjects met in the many student lounges. It was why upper year students were seldom in the dorm.

They were out after curfew, which alone made it very exciting. Harry hadn’t been able to find time for them to meet otherwise. Having someone from another house in the Order was really wreaking havoc with the schedule.  _ I wonder how chaotic things would get if I invited any Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. Good thing it’s not something to worry about for now. _

The members of the Order of the Basilisk were continuing to build their resistance to Veritaserum. The Room had given them some comfortable beanbag chairs to sprawl out in. Veritaserum affected one’s balance, and it was smarter to simply begin from a relaxed position.

They asked each other easy yes/no questions for a few minutes. They were trying to lie, to tell even the tiniest of lies. They were still not having any success. They still answered honestly and completely and then volunteered more information. A few times they managed to not be utter blabbermouths, but it required an astounding effort of willpower, and the strange noises they made while fighting their own tongues were downright scary.

Pansy finally huffed and crossed her arms in irritation. "This is all very well and good, but there's no investment in keeping these answers hidden. Nobody cares if you did or didn't eat a second helping of potatoes. Draco, you've taken a sip, right?"

"Yes," he said immediately. "Damn!"

"Hah!” she crowed. “It is working. All right, Draco. Do you love Ginny Weasley?"

Draco clapped his hands to his mouth as something muffled and unintelligible came out.

"Pansy!" Ginny said, scandalized.

"That's not fair, Pansy!" Draco was turning a very interesting shade of red.

She smiled coolly, fixing him with a smug and superior expression. "No, what wasn't fair was you covering your mouth. Harry, be a dear and Sticky Charm his hands down. I'll ask him again."

Draco looked a bit panicked now. "No, you won't."

“Harry?” She gave him a winsome, pleading expression. “Please? For me?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Pansy, but I can’t really help you on this one. If you want his hands Stickied, you’ll have to find someone else.”

“I’ll do it,” Daphne volunteered.

“Over my dead-”

Daphne was quicker with her wand than he was, and she took it out of his limp fingers as she poked at his earlobe.

Draco’s eyes boiled with fury. “Daphne, I will make you pay for this. Somehow, someday, I will make you pay.”

Daphne cast the Sticking Charm, and Draco’s hands were pinned at his sides.

Pansy was smirking now. "Draco, do you love Ginny Weasley?"

Draco made a very interesting noise. He sounded rather like a sick donkey. "IIIIII-I-I-I think so. Damn it, Pansy! This is none of your business!"

Pansy grinned wickedly. "Have you told her?"

"Well I just did, no thanks to you!" he snarled.

"When were you going to tell her?"

"Aaaa-Aaaa-Aa-At Christmas. Harry, let me go!"

"How were you going to tell her?"

"IIIII-Eeeeee-IIII-I was going to buy her something expensive and take her out to dinner in Bonn. IIIIII-I-I'd arranged for wine and musicians. I'm going to make you pay for this, Pansy!"

Pansy went in for the kill. "Were you going to seduce her?"

"Ooooo-Aaaaa-Ooooo-Aaaaaa!! OOO-Only if she seemed interested.” Draco paled. “Ginny, don't let Pansy twist this around! I only wanted to show you a good time."

Ginny had recovered from her initial shock. Now she had a sinister gleam in her eye too.

"Oh my. Well, I suppose I should feel flattered.”

“Do you?” Pansy said.

“Yes.” She instantly blushed crimson, her poise gone. “Pansy!”

“All's fair in love and Veritaserum,” Pansy said with a shrug.

“Are we sure I should be here for this?” Neville said nervously. “I don’t know you all nearly so well.”

“Yes,” Harry said, answering the question that hadn’t been directed at anyone in particular. “I think you should be here.”

No one wanted to argue with Harry.

Pansy kept her attention on Ginny but still kept asking about Draco. “How far have you let Draco go?”

Ginny blushed. “He likes grabbing my bum. He’s put his hands under my shirt.”

“And what does he do with those hands?” Pansy said, leering.

“Wonderful things,” the redhead said with a goofy grin. “He hasn’t been brave enough to go inside the bra though.”

Pansy gave him a withering look. “Draco, where’s your sense of adventure?”

He buffed his nails on his shirt. “I dated you, didn’t I?”

She didn’t appreciate the reminder, judging from her narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “How far did you go with Parvati?”

Draco fought a bit to not reveal his secrets. “She let me take off her shirt.”

“That’s it? Was she wearing anything under the shirt?”

“She was wearing a full coverage bra. It was very plain, but I thought it was the greatest thing in the world.”

“Of course you did,” Pansy said. She turned the questioning to a new victim. "Tracy, are you still in love with Harry?"

The blonde girl tried to fight it. Her face twisted up in grotesque distortions as she tried to keep from answering, but she lowered her head in defeat as she admitted, "Yes."

"Did you ever stop?"

"No." She didn’t look up.

"So you were putting up a front all last year?"

"I tried to get over him. I tried to be his friend without giving in to my feelings. It worked, mostly."

Pansy was ruthless with her questions. "Do you still carry a torch for him?"

Tracy could not help but answer. "Yes."

"Did you use his bad dreams to try to get back together with him?" Draco said suddenly.

Tracy’s eyes flashed with anger at the question from a new angle. "No. He needed someone to comfort him. He needed me." 

“Draco, what are you talking about?” Pansy said.

“I caught Tracy sleeping in Harry’s bed.” Draco groaned. “Merlin’s balls! Harry, I’m sorry.”

Harry flushed. He felt like steam might come out of his ears like a Pepper-Up Potion. 

Pansy cooed. “Ooh, you slept in his  _ bed _ ? Did you have sex with him?”

Tracy paled. “No.”

“Have you had sex with anyone?”

“No! Pansy, you are getting out of control.”

“Ashamed of the truth, Tracy?” She spread her arms wide. “Go ahead. Ask me anything.”

“How far did you let Draco go?” Tracy demanded.

Pansy didn’t even try to fight from answering. “Only some petting outside the clothes. He was clumsy, so I didn’t trust him to go further.”

Tracy folded her arms. “Have you gone further with anyone else?”

“Yes.”

“With whom?”

“Terry.”

Tracy shuddered. “The slobbery suitor? Eww. No way. What did he do?”

“He went under my blouse and tried to go right under my bra. I stopped him, but he did touch skin.”

“What did you do?” Daphne said curiously.

“I hexed him. Told him that if he was going to act like a brute, I’d treat him as one. After that he was much more cautious.”

“He must have really liked you if he didn’t break up with you.”

“He probably just wanted to see if he could get further if he moved slower,” Pansy said with a shrug. “He didn’t. Millie, how far have you gone with Viktor?”

“I don’t want to hear this!” Arcen cried. He stuck his fingers in his ears and began to hum.

Millie’s face was so red she might have been mistaken for a Gryffindor. “Not very. He’s a damned good kisser, though. He’s quite conservative and doesn’t want to do anything else yet.”

“You two have been together for some time now,” Daphne observed.

“Almost two years. It hardly seems possible.”

The questions got deeply personal. They brought up every relationship any of them had ever been in. Everyone soon knew who had done what with whom, where, and when. The younger boys were embarrassed by their lack of experience, but they were all still virgins, though Daphne had come close with Charles Warrington the Third.

“Such a creep,” she said with revulsion. “So glad I never let him get into my knickers.”

“Did he try?” Pansy said.

“Yeah. He said I didn’t seem like a kid to him. He’s got a smooth tongue, that one. Between the flattery and the attention, I know he manipulated me. I’m just glad I was smart enough to never give it to him.”

“Hey, Pansy,” Harry said when it was his turn again. “Professor Slughorn is having one of his little dinners. He said we could all bring one guest. Would you like to go with me?”

“Yes, I’d love to,” she said, before a horrified look came over her face. “You cheater! You wait til I’m on truth serum to ask me out?”

“It’s not like that,” he said. “I just know you wanted me to put in a good word with him for you. Now I can simply introduce you, and you can make your own good impression.”

Pansy squealed in a very un-Pansy-like fashion and threw her arms around him. “Harry, you’re the nicest boy ever.”

“Pansy, why haven’t you ever tried to date Harry?” Millie said.

Pansy buried her face in Harry’s shoulder to avoid answering. “Millie, I’m going to kill you tonight in your sleep.”

“You just said you’d love to go out with him.”

“Yes, but he hasn’t asked me before now.”

“And now?” Daphne interjected.

“Don’t be stupid. Regardless of how these very pointed questions make it sound, I’m not kept awake at night wondering how I can get the Boy Who Lived to ask me out. Harry’s my friend, and that comes first.” Her lips twisted as she fought the urge to say more. “My turn. Harry, are you ready for a new relationship right now?”

“I highly doubt it.”

“See there, Millie? Stop meddling. Leave the match-making to me.”

Harry laughed. “Hey, Pansy. Do you want to go to Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party with me as friends?”

“Just as friends?” she repeated.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess so.” She sounded disappointed at this change.

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” he teased.

“I would be if we weren’t going as friends.”

Now he was starting to feel like he was losing control of the situation. “You want to go as a date?”

Pansy tossed her hair back. “Why not? Nobody else seems interested this year.”

“I’m sure you’re just being too picky,” Daphne said with a snicker.

“Neville, it’s your turn,” Pansy said. 

The Gryffindor boy paled. “O-okay.”

Pansy giggled wickedly. “You weren’t at my birthday party.”

“No, I wasn’t.” They had talked about it quite a lot tonight.

“Knowing what went on, do you wish you had been there?”

“Yes.” His skin was bright red.

“I snogged every boy there.” She held his eyes captive with hers.

He matched her intensity. “I know.”

“Do you want to kiss me?” she said.

“Yes!” came his enthusiastic response.

“Then come over here.”

None of them could believe they were watching Pansy snogging Neville right in front of them. Neither could he. His face was completely red, but they wiggled their tongues together.

They broke apart, more for air than anything else.

“Pansy, are you okay?” Harry said.

“I feel really strange,” she said in a spacey voice.

“I think we should stop.”

“No, we’re okay. I just feel so completely open. I want to share. Isn’t the truth a beautiful thing?”

“And dangerous,” Harry said, remembering something Dumbledore had once told him. “You take a break for awhile. Have some normal water.”

“Okay.”

Harry turned to Neville. “She’s obviously having a bit of an effect from the Veritaserum.”

“Obviously.”

“I don’t think she meant to draw you into something. Pansy likes to snog, and she’s very good at it.”

“That she is.”

Pansy had expressed new-found admiration for Neville, but Harry wouldn’t be the one to tell him. She would have to do that on her own. Tonight may have been a big hint in that direction, but Harry couldn’t be sure if she’d meant it to come out. Veritaserum did funny things to one’s brain.

“Actually, I think we should all call it a night. This has been a very informative evening, and I need to process all of it.” He glanced at his watch. “Yeah, it’s nearly midnight. Let’s go. Neville, will you be all right getting back to Gryffindor tower?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m a prefect after all.”

That wasn’t bravado. They were all still under the influence of the potion.

“Be careful if you have to talk to anyone,” he cautioned them all. “The best thing you can do is go right to bed.”

* * *

 

Tracy smiled, but inside she was seething. Harry had asked Pansy to Slughorn’s Christmas party. How could he do that? Oh, it was just as friends, so he claimed. 

_ I’ve been with him since the summer, and he doesn’t even see me. _

It had to have been the Veritaserum. Pansy had set her up and forced her to admit to the entire Order that she still loved Harry, had never stopped, and still held out hope that she would be with him again someday. Her anger was toward Pansy, not Harry. Harry had just gotten scared, that’s all. He didn’t know what to do about her enduring love for him, so he’d backed off. Damn Pansy anyway for forcing the issue. Everything had been going splendidly until she’d stuck her big nose into the matter. It was enough to make Tracy want to hex her.

Fortunately they had a Duelling Club meeting the next night, so she would have the opportunity.

Pansy was completely out of it. Tracy, Millie, and Daphne guided her to bed and tucked her in before sitting down together in the window seat.

“Heck of a night,” Daphne said.

“It certainly was,” Tracy agreed.

“Remind me again why we agreed to take truth serum with Pansy around?”

“I have no idea. I think it was in case we get captured by Death Eaters.”

“Why would they use truth serum?” Millie said. “Why not just torture us until we talk?”

Tracy raised an eyebrow. “You want to build an immunity to torture?”

Daphne shuddered. “Thanks, but no.”

“I think it’s smart to be prepared,” Tracy continued. “They might be pressed for time. There are other reasons. What if we were to get picked up by the Aurors?”

“Why would we?” Millie replied.

“Think about another possible reality,” Tracy said speculatively, “one where we aren’t friends with Harry. Let’s say he’d been Sorted to Ravenclaw, for example. We wouldn’t know him beyond that ride on the train. He was nice enough, but if he’d gone off to hang around with Terry Boot, Padma Patil, and Mandy Brocklehurst, who knows if we’d be more than acquaintances by now?”

“I think the more socially-inclined among us would still have tried.”

“Of course, but House is a very significant barrier. Let’s say he were in Gryffindor. Draco and most of the others would hate him on general principle.”

Millie shivered. “That’s a horrifying thought.”

“Even that ride on the train wouldn’t be enough to sustain us if he were in Gryffindor,” Tracy continued. “But if we weren’t close friends with Harry, our families would all be looked at with suspicion simply because we’re Slytherin. Many Slytherins do support Voldemort.”

“As do a goodly number of people from the other houses,” Daphne pointed out.

“But that will never be talked about. It’s actually very cunning. Slytherins are the obvious Dark wizards, so it allows those from other houses to more easily go unnoticed.”

“I never thought of that.”

“So if they could take a hard look at us in this theoretical reality we’re talking about, they could just as easily take a hard look at us here. I have no intention of cooperating with anyone, so I’m going to stick with this Veritaserum thing.”

“I don’t know,” said Millie. “I kind of like the idea of having some privacy.”

“Me too,” Daphne said.

* * *

 

Far from Hogwarts, in the heart of London, the adults of the extended Black family gathered in the sitting room to have their own experiment with Veritaserum. Their discussion was not focused nearly so much upon sexual escapades. When they had ended for the night, Ted and Andromeda went home. Remus went to meet Tonks as she got off her shift. 

“Just a moment, Lucius,” Sirius said. “I’m not quite through with you.”

“What is it, Sirius?”

“Why did you join Voldemort?”

Lucius’ mouth twisted as he fought the truth serum, but it was no use.

“For pride.”

Sirius clearly wanted to hear more, but Lucius managed to suppress the urge to volunteer more information.

“What do you mean?”

“Wizard pride. I believe that we are superior to Muggles, and Voldemort agreed with me.”

“Why did you decide to leave?”

Lucius didn’t fight this response. “As I have told you many times, I realized he was insane.”

“When was that?” Sirius demanded.

“After he tortured me.”

Sirius smiled slightly. “Do you regret your Dark ways?”

“That’s a very complicated question, Sirius. If I had never joined the Death Eaters, I could never have answered the call to Azkaban that night he announced his return. There would have been no inside man to save Harry from him, and your godson would have been killed. So in a sense, no, I have no regrets at all.”

Sirius mulled that over for a moment. “How many people have you hurt?”

“Hundreds.”

“When was the last time you caused someone to be hurt?”

“Four years ago.”

“How?” Sirius asked immediately. 

“I gave Ginevra Weasley an object that once belonged to Voldemort.”

“The diary. Did you plant it on her deliberately?”

“Yes.”

“Was it premeditated?”

“How could it have been? I would hardly carry the thing with me, and I would have no way of knowing when I would encounter the girl.”

“So you saw the opportunity and you took it?”

“I did. It was my intention to rid myself of the book, but Borgin wouldn’t buy it. Then I believed I had picked up an Auror’s attention. I saw the girl and knew it was my only chance.”

Sirius breathed a sigh of exasperation. “Damn the Darkness,” he swore. “You need to tell Ginny what you did to her. She deserves to know why she almost lost her soul.”

“What possible good can come from that?” Lucius retorted. “I am doing everything in my power to make amends to her and her family. I gave my consent when Draco wanted to court her. I permitted him to invest in the twins’ business. I gave job recommendations for Percy. I tried to lure Charles back home with a Quidditch contract so he could be closer to home. I suggested that Madam Rosmerta hire a full-time chef instead of trying to run both the kitchen and the dining room and recommended the culinary talent of Molly Weasley. I have even done what I can to advance the career of Arthur Weasley, a wizard whom I personally detest.”

“Oh, you’re the heart of generosity, you are,” Sirius said bitingly. “It was your fault his career dead-ended in the first place.”

“Hardly. He was perfectly happy to putter with Muggle junk forever. Even the current situation has provoked no interest from him. He claims to want to get out of the Centaur office, but he has done nothing to achieve it.”

Sirius was about to ask another question when Lucius pointed a stern finger at him. “Are you satisfied at last that I have been truthful with you?”

“Not entirely,” Sirius said. “I have no way of knowing if you’ve previously built up immunity to this stuff.”

Lucius sighed with exasperation.

Sirius turned to Narcissa. “How come you never joined the Death Eaters?”

“He rarely accepts witches into his service. Bellatrix and Alecto Carrow are the only ones.”

“Did you want to?”

“No,” she replied coolly. “I believe wizards are superior to Muggles but not enough to kill them about it.”

“How much did you know about their activities?”

“Little. Lucius sought to spare me from the horrors.”

“Were you a virgin on your wedding night?”

Narcissa grew angry, but she answered immediately. “I most certainly was.”

“That’s enough, Sirius,” Lucius interjected, his eyes blazing. “Since you got to play a bonus round, it’s only fair that you get another turn in the hotseat. I would like to know more about this mysterious group known as the Marauders.”

Sirius paled.

“Were you trying to scare Snape or get him killed when you told him how to immobilize the Whomping Willow?”

“It didn’t really matter to me. How do you even know about that?”

“He told me. I’ll be asking the questions, cousin. You show such callous regard for another student’s life. Why do you think that makes you so different from me?”

Sirius fought for all he was worth, but in the end he was forced to answer. “I regret being that boy. There are a million things in the world more significant than a schoolboy rivalry, and I wish someone had told me so. I wish I had believed them. I’m angry at the boy I used to be, and I think it’s because he was so much like you. I always thought I was so different from my family, but not in all the ways that mattered.”

Lucius nodded. “Those traits we find most detestable in others are those that we ourselves possess. It pleases me that you have come to value life, Sirius. Perhaps if we work together, we will all enjoy it for a long time to come.”

* * *

 

Saturday morning was the Hogsmeade visit, and Harry knew he would have to squeeze a few moments of fun in-between constant vigilance.  _ I know it’s important, and I certainly don’t trust anyone else to see to it, but I’d like to enjoy the weekend if possible. _

Not all of his friends were going. Theo was training in the Room of Requirement, as always, with Lucas.

Though they all met up at the gate, they didn’t stick together very long. Draco wandered off with Ginny for a snog. Crabbe and Goyle went to spend hours in the sweet shoppe. It was down to just Harry, Tracy, Pansy, and Millie by the time they got to the village.

“Where shall we go first?” Harry said. He figured that he would eventually walk everywhere in the village at least twice. It was just a question of priorities.

Tracy shook her head. "Have fun, guys. I told Jamie I'd spend the day with her. She's going to be on duty, but her duties include roaming the village. I think she's hoping to meet a young Auror who isn't married. With all of her Healer courses, she hasn't had much chance to date for awhile."

“I thought she was trying to get Professor Montague to notice her?” Pansy said.

“She is. It just hasn’t happened yet.”

"Tell her I say hi," Harry said.

"I absolutely will. Maybe we can meet up later and have an early dinner at the Three Broomsticks."

"That would be nice."

"See you later, then."

Pansy had her arm casually linked with Harry’s. They were seemingly carefree. It was nice to pretend for awhile. Harry had set the prefects and the better members of the Duelling Club to patrol the village. He also recognized an Auror or two among the patrons of the Three Broomsticks.

Tracy and Jamie weren't there yet, so Harry grabbed a booth with a view of the door. Pansy sat next to Harry, still on his arm. 

Mrs. Weasley's cooking was still amazing. The special today was corned beef with potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery. Harry saw Ron bemoaning the menu a few tables away. Harry had no idea why the boy with the indiscriminate appetite was complaining about the corned beef. He himself was moaning, but with delight.

Harry saw Arcen hold the door for Michelle, and they got a table to themselves. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear. He grinned at her and took her hand. Madam Rosmerta came by and they ordered drinks.

Harry's brow furrowed in thought. Something about seeing the two of them together bothered him. Michelle had burned a lot of bridges when she'd manipulated Harry into asking her to the Yule Ball. For the first time, people were speaking to her again. Harry hadn't supported how the girls had treated her, but it looked like she was trying her luck with the boys.

Harry sipped on his butterbeer and watched the room. Daphne wandered in and he made space for her.

"Hi, everyone," she said, hanging up her cloak. "Glad I could make it." 

"I wonder if Draco and Ginny will join us," Pansy said innocently.

"Well, if you had a chance to be alone with Draco, wouldn’t you take it?" Millie teased.

"I’ve  _ been _ alone with Draco. It was fun, but hardly worth missing out on this."

"Hey, he’s not even here to defend himself," Harry protested.

"Do you have a different opinion regarding his snogging?" Pansy said, arching her eyebrows.

"Well, I haven’t heard any girls complain about it."

"Few girls would admit to it in the first place. I have to because there’s no denying it unless I had the entire castle Memory Charmed."

"Somehow I think you’ve considered that in detail."

"Slytherins love to plan."

Harry gave up trying to get the last word. "What do you think of Michelle and Arcen?"

"I try not to," Millie said with a shudder.

"She’s been a lot more visible this year," Pansy noted. "She raises her hand more in class. She comes to the common room more often. Looks like she wants to try dating now. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Harry said, taking another sip of his butterbeer.

“I still can’t believe she won that bottle of Luck Potion.”

“I know!” said Daphne.

“She doesn’t deserve to keep it,” Pansy said.

“Do you want to take it away from her?” Daphne asked.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“What can we do?” Millie wondered.

Pansy suggested, “Well, we could go and search her room for contraband and palm it.”

Daphne dismissed the idea. “Too obvious.”

“Ginny could steal it,” Millie offered.

“Again, obvious.”

Millie tried again. “We could force her to turn it over at wandpoint.”

“She’d tell on us,” Pansy said. “She seems like she’d carry tales.”

“We’d deny it. There’s no proof.”

Pansy tapped her fingers on the table. “We could Memory Charm her.”

Harry struck in. “Why is your first suggestion always to muck with someone’s mind? Anyway, didn’t she say someone already stole it?”

“She’s probably just looking for attention. Nobody I’ve talked with knows anything about it.”

Weasley and his friends got up to leave. He headed for the loo. They headed outside. Madam Rosmerta came over and started to clear the table.

On his way out, Weasley passed near Harry’s table. He didn’t precisely glare at the Slytherins as he walked by, but he wasn’t exactly friendly either. Harry nodded to him in acknowledgment. Weasley nodded back. Then, just when everything had been going so well, the proverbial switch was flipped and it all began to go horribly wrong.

Weasley tripped.

He stumbled forward but caught himself against a post before he fell. He turned and now he glared, his vengeful eyes falling on the Slytherin table.

Harry groaned.

“Which one of you did it?” Weasley demanded.

“Did what?” Harry replied.

“Which one of you tripped me?”

“Weasley, nobody tripped you.”

“Lies!” Weasley's face was going red.

“Do you see anyone’s wand out?” Harry asked reasonably. “We’re all here to relax not start trouble. Now let me buy you a butterbeer.”

“I don’t need your charity, Potter,” Weasley snarled.

This was rapidly degenerating. “It’s not charity. It’s a gesture to show there’s no hard feelings here. I didn’t trip you. None of us did. It was probably just the floorboards. Have a butterbeer.”

At that moment, Romilda Vane and her group of friends entered the Three Broomsticks. She looked stunning. Her make-up was sparkly gold around her eyes, with hints of crimson on her cheeks. She looked like she was ready for Quidditch day. It was well done, but Harry thought it a bit much.

“Hello, Ronald,” Romilda said warmly.

“Hey, Romilda.” 

“Having a good day?”

“Not bad, aside from a few annoyances,” he said, not taking his eyes off of Harry. “You?”

“It’s been fun.” She looked at the table of Slytherins. “I think it’s so nice that you have friends in other houses, Ronald. Hello, I’m Romilda Vane. You can call me Romy.”

“Hi, Romy,” Pansy said brightly. “I’m Pansy Parkinson.”

“So nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Ronald, you didn’t tell me you knew Pansy Parkinson.”

“I- er, I- um- sorry about that.”

“Let’s get a table, and you can tell me more about all the fascinating people you know.”

“Er- Um- I was just-”

“Great.” Romilda turned to the table. “I’ll see you all later. Sorry I can’t stay to chat, but I’m dying for a butterbeer.”

“Bye, Romy,” Pansy said. “Bye, Ronald.”

Romilda had a handful of Weasley’s cloak and guided him to the table he had just vacated. Madam Rosmerta had just finished cleaning it with a wave of her wand.

“You know, I think I could get to like that girl,” Harry said admiringly.


	15. Medical Attention

**** Harry got to the Great Hall just as the post was arriving. There were no letters for him, so he dug into the platter of French toast and the bowl of scrambled eggs, making sure to take plenty of bacon too. He ignored the pumpkin juice and went right for the milk, draining two glasses in rapid succession.

Long after the other owls had come and gone, a feathered grey lump landed in the empty porridge bowl with a thud. It hooted weakly, grasping at the air with its talons.

“Oh for the love of Merlin,” Ginny said. “Errol! Get out of there. Silly bird.”

The Weasley family owl righted himself, nearly knocking over the pitcher of milk in the process. He shook himself, sending several fluffy feathers into the air.

“Is he molting?” Daphne quipped. The poor owl looked to be missing half his feathers.

“Sadly not.”

Errol began to chew on a sausage.

Ginny opened her post and curled a lock of hair around her finger as she read. After a few moments, she began to giggle.

Pansy arched one eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, it’s about Percy’s wedding. There have been more developments.”

Pansy exchanged a silent look with Daphne. “That sounds intriguing.”

Ginny nodded. “Apparently Lynn’s family objects to Percy having a female on his side because it means that Lynn needs a male on her side because a female escorting a female is entirely too liberal. They don’t want to be untraditional, so her mother wants me out of the wedding party entirely.”

“Is your mum still agreeing with her?”

“No, Percy sat down with her and explained how special I am to him.” Ginny made a face. “I’m really glad I wasn’t there for it. I would have been blushing brighter than the Hogwarts Express. Anyway, he said that I was his closest sibling, and if he could only pick one person, it would be me. Then he started in about how I should be the best maid or something. Mum didn’t want him bringing those ideas up to the Fawcetts, so she suggested that I could still be in the wedding party, just on Lynn’s side.”

Daphne giggled. “Best maid. That’s stellar.”

“It really is.” Pansy nodded. “How did Missus Fawcett take it?”

“We don’t know yet. They haven’t had another meeting.”

Daphne said, “Having you on Lynn’s side could be a good compromise.”

“We’ll see,” Ginny said with a shrug of her shoulders. “It would mean they’d get to pick a boy though.”

Pansy said, “Yes, well, sometimes we must give in order to get. I suggest you do it.”

“Not my decision.”

“Tell Percy that I suggest it.”

“I’m sure he’ll do as you command, Pansy,” Theo said snidely.

She turned to him with a snarl. “Theo, go jump off the Astronomy tower.”

“Only if we’re holding hands. Why don’t you visit greenhouse six alone tonight?”

Pansy and Theo began to bicker. Harry tuned them out and turned to someone with whom he rarely got to speak. 

“So, Daphne, how are things? I barely get a chance to talk with you when it’s not about school stuff. Are you caught up yet?”

Having spent most of the summer holiday in St. Mungo’s, she was scrambling to complete the summer assignments and stay current in her classes. Every spare minute she had was devoted to academics. The visit to Hogsmeade had been a rare break for her.

Daphne took a sip of her pumpkin juice and looked up from her notes. She brushed back a lock of blonde hair that escaped her barrette.

“Not entirely. The work this year is intense. All the teachers have been really nice about it, even Professor McGonagall.”

Harry nodded. Under her stern exterior, the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall was a stand-up sort of witch. She was strict but fair, and being laid up in hospital was certainly an extenuating circumstance. “How about, you know, other things?”

Daphne’s easy smile faded. Tori reached out and grabbed her hand under the table.

“Oh,” she said softly. “That. Well, I haven’t had much time to dwell on it, thankfully. I’ve been too busy. Maybe I’ll have time to break down over Christmas. I think I could use it.”

Harry hated asking difficult questions, but he was concerned. “If you need some time off from Duelling Club, you just have to ask for it.” He tried to bring her smile back. “Am I too scary for you?”

It worked. Daphne grinned at him. “You? Hardly. I might have to take you up on that. Just for a week or two, really. As soon as I’m caught up, I’ll be normal again, I swear.”

“You, normal? That’ll be the day,” Tori said, stealing a sausage off Daphne’s plate.

“In fact, take tonight’s meeting off,” Harry said. “Get some sleep instead.”

“I’ll be fine. Really.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Daphne said with a cheeky salute.

Tori pulled Harry aside after breakfast. Her blonde hair was pulled back in two pigtails, and she was trying to fix a crease in her hat. He made motions like he was helping her.

“What’s up?”

“Didn’t get a chance to tell you this earlier,” she said, putting the hat back on. “Michelle tried to follow us to the meeting last night. We managed to lose her by doubling back through the Charms corridor and taking a secret passage, but she knows we’re going somewhere and she knows we don’t want her to know.”

Harry gnawed his thumbnail, suddenly offended by its length. Michelle was trying way too hard to penetrate the secrets of his organization.  _ Why? Is she just curious because she’s not included or is there something else going on? _

“Thanks, Tori. I appreciate it.”

She beamed at him. “Glad to do my part.”

Without a further word, she vanished around the corner.  _ She really loves being my private informant. _ He shook his head and went to class.

The day’s classes passed quickly. Harry’s mind was preoccupied with getting ready for the meeting of the Duelling Club. He said little in classes and kept to himself at lunch. Only at dinner did he relax a bit and participate in table conversation. 

“Why does the snitch have to be worth so many points?” Millie declaimed. “All the Chasers and Beaters are doing is providing entertainment until the snitch is caught. It’s just a way to have a random time for the match. Now it’s the Seekers who decide the match, which is stupid. Snitch-seeking should be its own sport. Let Quidditch be a game of Chasers and Beaters again. Really, it ruined the game when they added the snitch.”

Draco looked up from feeding Ginny while she rapidly scribbled an essay that was due in the morning. “I don’t know about that. I do agree that it’s worth too many points. Maybe it should be worth less.”

“How many?” Harry wondered.  _ I haven’t talked about Quidditch for awhile, and this could be interesting. _ “There  _ have _ been cases where the Chasers were able to score enough goals to make the snitch meaningless. You were there at the World Cup.”

“Yes, but it’s stupid!” Millie yelled. “The snitch should be worth zero points. If it were just to be a random length of time for the match, that would be okay. Then the Chasers would have incredible motivation to be in the lead. The match could end at any moment. Wow, that would be intense pressure!”

They continued to debate the finer points of Quidditch through dinner and ultimately Millie decided that she would give it a go at the next practice, pitting the first team against the reserves.

As soon as desserts were cleared away, Harry got to his feet and began to give orders.

“All Duelling Club members remain and form a perimeter. All non-members are excused. Any of the staff are invited to remain if they wish.” That was a courtesy. None of the staff had stayed since five minutes into the first meeting.

Once the Great Hall was clear, Harry moved the house tables and got them down to business. They drilled on curses for an hour, and Harry walked up and down the lines offering critiques. He set them to duel single opponents, using silent casting only. The only cursing was of the profane variety.

Suddenly there was a blood-curdling scream from the far end of the hall. Harry sprinted toward the sound. Susan Bones lay on the floor clutching her knee, which was mangled grotesquely, her foot sticking out at a very unnatural angle.

Terry Boot was pale as a sheet. “Merlin’s wand! I’m sorry, Susan! I’m sorry! Help!”

“Stand aside,” Harry said. He cast a Numbing Charm.

Susan stopped screaming, but she burst into tears.

Harry hated it when girls cried. He had no idea what to do.

There was only a trickle of blood, but there was no way a simple Healing Charm would be able to fix this.  _ She needs Madam Pomfrey. _

“Easy now,” Harry said. “You’re going to be okay. Let’s just get you to the hospital wing. I’m going to levitate you, okay?”

Biting her lip, Susan nodded.

Harry turned to the club. “Neville, you’re in charge.”

Neville started. “Me?”

“Him?” Draco said.

Harry ignored Draco. “Keep up the silent duelling. We had about ten more minutes of that. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so do what you think best.”

Neville nodded. “Okay, Harry.” He looked around at the others. “Alright, back to your duels. We’ve still got time tonight.”

Harry brought Susan to the hospital wing. He was very careful to move her slowly and keep her away from walls.

“I was wondering who the first one would be,” she said, a little calmer now. “To be injured, I mean. I didn’t figure on it being me.”

“No one ever does. We all think we’re immortal, that nothing can touch us. But we are vulnerable in so many ways.”

“Yeah. Even I forget sometimes.” Harry knew she’d lost her parents to Death Eaters.

“Me too. But never again.”

She shook her head fiercely. “Never.”

They had arrived at the hospital wing.

“Madam Pomfrey!” Harry called as he opened the door. “We need your help.”

The elderly nurse saw to Susan’s injury with her usual unruffled professionalism. Harry knew he should get back to the meeting, but he felt Neville would have things well in-hand. Susan was more than just one of his club members. She was a friend, loosely, anyway. He’d once been closer with her, before the Triwizard Tournament. They’d even had a date or two, depending on who one asked. She was a nice girl, and Harry didn’t want to leave her all alone.

“Thanks for staying, Harry,” she said with a dreamy smile.

“You’re welcome. How do you feel?”

“I feel fine. How are you?”

“I’m doing okay.”

“That’s nice. That’s nice.” She giggled. “Nice. Nice nice nice nice nice.” She giggled again. “You’re nice. You stayed with me. That’s such a nice thing to do.”

Harry tried very hard not to laugh at her. “You’ve gone bonkers, you have.”

She tried to look indignant, but she just looked cross-eyed. “I have not. I’m just doped up with potions. I’ve had quite an injury today, you know.”

“Oh, did you get hurt? How? Tell me all about it,” he said eagerly.

She tried to glare at him, but it looked more like she was crossing her eyes. “You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you, Harry?”

“Uh huh!” he agreed, nodding his head vigorously and grinning like an idiot.

She giggled again but was interrupted by a big yawn.

“Excuse me. I’m all sleepy.”

“As you said, you’re pretty doped up.”

He held her hand, knowing how comforting it could be to simply have physical contact. Susan had just slipped into a medicated sleep when suddenly the door opened, and Dumbledore came rushing in with two people on floating stretchers.

“Poppy, I need you,” he said urgently.

Harry shrank back and tried to stay out of sight.

She made no move to help. “What happened?”

“Attacked by Death Eaters. Please, Poppy,” he implored.

“They’re not students,” she protested. “Take them to Saint Mungo’s.”

He shook his head slowly. “I can’t do that.”

“More of that vigilante group you have going?” she asked archly.

He looked startled. “How did you-”

“Oh come now, Albus,” Madam Pomfrey said disdainfully. “Do you honestly think I don’t have eyes and ears? I know everything that happens and is said in this ward.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Very well. Yes, my friends have been hurt and need treatment.”

She was already beginning to apply her skills.

Dumbledore looked directly in Harry’s direction.

“Harry, I see you back there. Come with me, please.”

Harry went, feeling his stomach drop into his shoes.

“I need you to remain quiet about what you saw here tonight. This is Order business.”

“What happened?”

“Perhaps we should discuss this in my office.”

Harry had no desire to visit the headmaster’s office unless it was to view more memories and learn more about Voldemort’s past. “Your office is a hundred kilometres away. Let’s find a room.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, perhaps that is best.”

Outside of the hospital wing, Dumbledore turned left. He stopped in front of a small door and opened it, revealing mops, brooms, and assorted cleaning supplies.

“After you, Harry.”

Never in a million years did Harry ever think he would be going into a broom closet with the Headmaster.

“A bit cramped, but I suppose it will do,” Dumbledore said, taking out his wand and flicking it a few times. Suddenly the space became bigger, and the stack of boxes Harry was sitting on became a fine armchair.

“There, that’s better,” the professor said with satisfaction. “Tea?”

“No, thank you, sir. What’s going on?”

Dumbledore poured himself a cup of steaming tea and pondered it for a long moment before quietly answering. “Death Eaters attempted to destroy Big Ben.”

Harry gasped. He knew from reports to the Order of the Phoenix that they’d been planning it, but such a strike at a national symbol was still audacious.

“Attempted? They failed?”

Dumbledore nodded, his magnificent beard bobbing with the motion. “There was a pitched battle. Muggles saw. It’s a disaster for the Ministry. The clocktower was spared, but the Obliviators are working overtime.”

“That’s why we have them.” Harry turned to the important questions. “How many Death Eaters were killed?”

“Two.”

“That’s all?”

Dumbledore nodded again. “I’m happy we got any.”

“Prisoners?”

“We managed to capture two more Death Eaters, and they’ve been taken away for questioning.”

“Good,” Harry said viciously.

Dumbledore seemed somehow sad. “You seem very hard about this, Harry.”

Harry’s expression was flinty. “You seem surprised.”

“Concerned, is all. I worry about how much hate you have let into your heart.”

Harry tried not to sneer. “I didn’t exactly invite it, Professor. They killed my parents. They killed my girl. They tried to kill me and my friends. Yes, I hate them. Hate is what they have shown, and hate is what they will receive. If I didn’t hate them, I wouldn’t want to kill them, and every single one of them needs to die. You know this. There is no redemption for people like Bellatrix Lestrange. You can’t save her or the people like her. You treat her like any other mad dog, and you put her down. Permanently. Same with the rest of them.”

“Do you want her to suffer?” Dumbledore asked quietly.

“She deserves to suffer,” Harry said hotly.

Dumbledore was noncommittal. “Most likely.”

“Definitely. You can’t do what she’s done and not earn a punishment.”

“Is not death punishment enough?”

“It’s a start.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I hope you do not have to be the one to carry out that sentence.”

“Me either, but someone has to. If it falls to me, I will not shirk.”

The old man nodded. “I believe we should return to the hospital wing soon. What is the situation with Miss Bones?”

“She’s hurt, but she’ll be okay.”

“How was she hurt? There will need to be a report made.”

Harry loathed paperwork. “I’ll give you one tomorrow evening. You’ll get Madam Pomfrey’s report in any case.”

“This is true. Very well. Tomorrow evening then.”

Harry checked the hall carefully before exiting the broom closet. Then he pretended like it was any other door, acting like he was simply stretching his legs as he walked out. With Susan asleep, he decided to head back to the Duelling Club meeting, which was just finishing up. Neville had kept them for the full allotment of time.

“He was brutal, Harry,” Draco complained. “He would have one person shield against two attackers. I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Pansy moaned. “Neville’s as nutters as Theo.”

Theo heard her and snapped, “Shut up, Pansy.”

“You shut-” she was interrupted by a yawn. “Damn it.”

“Both of you stop complaining. Something happened tonight.”

At those mysterious words, all of Harry’s friends clustered around him.

“Not here.” He glanced up and around. “Never know who’s listening in. Lair.”

In the security of the girls’ dorm, the only place where all ears were friendly, Harry told his friends about the attack on Big Ben. He wasn’t sure who were the two Order members in the hospital wing. He hadn’t gotten that close of a look at them. They weren’t anyone he would recognize at a distance.

“I wonder what spells they got hit with,” Theo said.

Pansy scoffed at him. “You would.”

“Two Death Eaters killed, you say?” Daphne said. “Any idea who? Was it that bastard Dolohov?”

“I don’t know. Dumbledore didn’t say.”

“Please let it be Dolohov,” she prayed. “I want to gut him myself, but I wouldn’t mind if someone does him for me.”

At that moment, Harry felt a stab of anger. He clapped his hands to his scar and bent over, sucking in a hissing breath. Voldemort had just found out about the failure of the Death Eaters’ mission. Harry pushed it away, ordering his mind. There was no place in his ordered mind for a homicidal madman with delusions of grandeur.

“Harry?” Tracy said, leaning into him. “What is it?”

“He’s not happy,” Harry said with vast understatement. “He’s torturing his followers. He doesn’t take failure at all well.”

* * *

 

The observer had a golden opportunity. Two Order members lay in the hospital wing, injured by spellfire and Dark magic. It would be simplicity itself to steal in, finish off the pair, and escape without detection. One would never have such a chance again. Two of Dumbledore’s operatives gone would hurt him greatly.

That very night, the observer entered the ward and made immediately for the curtained-off area. In one pocket he (or she) had a vial of iocaine powder, which would turn the Healing Draughts into something far more sinister.

The Master would surely approve. This wasn’t disobeying orders. This was taking initiative in the absence of orders. Such a thing was rewarded, if the result was success. If the result was failure, then the punishment would be severe.

It was worth the risk. No one would be able to trace the iocaine powder. It was tasteless, colourless, odorless, and dissolved instantly in liquid. It left no evidence. Half went in each cup that was waiting for the patient to wake up. They would drink their own death.

Chaos sown, the observer hurried out of the hospital ward. In the morning, there would be two dead operatives and no cause and no suspects. They would be presumed to have died from their injuries.

* * *

 

The day after the injury at Duelling Club, Harry went to the hospital wing to see how Susan was doing. The place was chaotic, virtually a riot. Madam Pomfrey was shouting, which alone said how serious the situation was. Dumbledore, Snape, Slughorn, McGonagall, and Jamie were all arguing.

“There is clearly an agent of the Dark Lord in this school,” Snape said as though it were undeniable.

“Let us not jump to conclusions,” McGonagall said. “Perhaps their injuries were just too grievous, and the strain of magical healing was too much for them to take.”

“The Healing Draught seldom has such side effects, not like Healing Charms,” Slughorn said, managing to sound proud of his craft even in the midst of an argument. “Were the draughts prepared correctly?”

“Of course they were!” Jamie snapped. “Professor. I have all my documentation in order.”

“Healer Davis is a skilled brewer of potions, Professor Slughorn. I taught her myself. I am sure she did it right.”

Slughorn nodded. “We shall review the records just to be sure and to remove all doubt.”

Snape said, “Of course. In the meantime, a sample of the potion they drank must be retained.”

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “That might be a problem. The house elves had already taken away the cup by the time they were discovered.”

Dumbledore shook his head, sending his beard waving back and forth. “I never thought I would see the day when we cursed the efficiency of elves. Is it possible that they just succumbed to their injuries?”

Madam Pomfrey considered the question. “I suppose, Headmaster, but both of them?”

He nodded. “They were grievously injured. Dark curses can linger and have deleterious effects and negative interactions with healing magic.”

She didn’t seem entirely convinced. “This is true,” she allowed.

Dumbledore sighed. “Well, there is nothing more we can do here. Thank you all.”

Everyone filed out of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey watched them go with a steely glare. “Question my skills, do they? We’ll see how much they question next time they need a Healer.” She harrumphed, seemingly very offended. “Yes, Mister Potter?”

“Hello, Madam Pomfrey. May I speak with your trainee?”

“Jamie, dear, you’ve got a visitor.”

“Hello, Harry,” Jamie said, sounding somewhat surprised.

He motioned her to the side where they could have some privacy. “What’s going on?”

“Those two people that Professor Dumbledore brought in last night? I found them this morning, dead.” She shuddered.

“Dead? How?”

Jamie shrugged helplessly.

“We don’t know. I’ve seen dead bodies before, when I was an Apprentice. We have to study anatomy, you see. We have to look at blood and guts early on, to make sure we’ve got what it takes. That’s why so many wash out so early. I’m not ashamed to admit that I threw up a lot at first. I’ve seen dead bodies, but never patients, never people.”

“It’s hard, I know.”

“Seen a lot then?” she asked.

“Too many.” Harry shook his head, clearing the memories. “I’m sure Tracy has told you all about our Duelling Club.”

“She has. She’s quite enthusiastic about it, though that might just be because you’re providing the instruction.”

Harry ignored that comment. “Yes, well, with Susan’s injury and all, I thought it might be a good idea to have a Healer there all the time.”

“I’m only a Journeyman,” Jamie said demurely.

“That’s better than any of us.”

She still seemed sceptical. “Don’t you meet like three times a week?”

“Yes, but Tracy says you’re not busy most nights.”

Jamie stomped her foot. “Urgh, that blabber!”

“The staff not inviting you to their Exploding Poker games?” Harry said cheekily.

“I’m studying most nights. The exams are coming up soon, and I’m not ready. I go out once every two weeks to Hogsmeade. I get one drink, I savour it, and I come back to the castle. I’ve been trying to find time to chat up Abraham, but our schedules aren’t very complimentary.”

“Wait, wait, you allow yourself a drink?”

“Piss off, Harry,” she said cheerfully. “Healer training is insane. You’d be lucky to have survived as long as I have. Over half of the apprentices I started with were scrubbed out. A third of the remaining group weren’t moved on to journeyman rank. Half of the rest of us won’t make it to master.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” he said teasingly.

“I do.”

“Well, this just makes me want to have you at the meetings even more.”

She groaned. “I just set myself up, didn’t I?”

“Yes, yes, you did.”

Jamie sighed. “I’ll be there.”

“See you tonight.”

* * *

 

True to her word, Jamie became the newest member of the Duelling Club. She arrived somewhat diffidently, as many students elected to engage in pre-meeting warm-up duels. She looked around for someone she knew. Harry waved her over.

“Glad you could make it.”

“Well, I wasn’t doing anything, supposedly,” Jamie said with a mock-glare at her sister, who smiled innocently.

Harry called the meeting to order.

“I’d like you all to welcome Jamie Davis, Madam Pomfrey’s assistant. After what happened last time with Susan, I thought it would be a good idea to have her here.”

Several of the Hufflepuffs started clapping, which led to the Slytherins applauding one of their own, and soon everyone else joined in.

“Oh my goodness,” Jamie said, a bit flustered at the warm welcome. “Thank you all so much. I hope my skills aren’t needed, but if they are, I promise to do my very best.”

“That’s all we ask of anyone in this room,” Harry said. “Thank you. Now, let’s get to work.”

Everyone seemed cheered by the fact that Jamie was there. The worry of injury, which had been potent even during last year’s club, was ever-present. With medical attention available immediately, one was unlikely to have any serious injury.

The club worked for ninety minutes and went their separate ways. Students had homework, and Journeyman Healers had homework, work, studying, more work, and maybe even sleep tonight if she were lucky. First, though, she had a mission.

Jamie headed towards the interior of the castle where there were no windows to the outside. This was the warmest part of the castle. She knocked on Professor Slughorn’s office door.

“Yes, do come in.”

The Potions Master was sitting at his desk. There was a stack of parchment nearby, but he didn’t look to be marking papers. His quill was in the inkwell, and he had a glass of ice in front of him.

“Ah, Healer Davis,” Slughorn said delightedly. “Do come in. Have a seat, have a seat. May I offer you some brandy?”

“I can’t,” she said regretfully.  _ A brandy sounds very nice right now.  _ “I’m on duty at the moment. I’ve got to go back to the hospital wing soon.”

“Ah, one never wants to drink on the job. I’ve just finished my office hours and was having a little something to clear the mind. You’re lucky to have caught me. And now that you have, what can I do for you?”

Jamie got right to the point. “Professor Slughorn, I need to impose upon your time. My duties in the hospital wing include brewing a variety of complicated potions on a regular basis. I’m having difficulty finding time to get them all done. Do you have any suggestions on ways to shorten the preparation time?”

His face lit up with delight. “Well, certainly prepare in large volumes. When simultaneously brewing different potions, arrange the timing so that you are preparing similar ingredients together and reduce wasted motions.”

That made so much sense. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Keeping the records straight can confuse lesser wizards,” Slughorn cautioned, “but I think you’ll be alright. Your records were very good. I had no trouble following your preparation at all, and it seems everything was made correctly. I’m glad, though you understand we did have to check.”

“Of course, sir. I believe very strongly in the principles of Good Potion-Making. You’ve got to keep exact records, otherwise how can you be sure what you’ve done?”

Slughorn shook his head, sending his many chins flapping about like a turkey’s wattles. “So many people just make their potions by rote. They follow some procedure in a book and if they get it wrong they start over.”

“Healers don’t have that luxury,”Jamie declared. “We need to make our medicines properly or people could die. It’s such a huge responsibility.”

“It takes one of fine character to become a Healer. To assume responsibility for the life of another being is frankly terrifying to me. I’m glad that there are people in the world like yourself. Are you sure I can’t interest you in a brandy? I should like to drink to your health.”

“No, Professor, sorry. You can have my share though.”

“Fine character,” Slughorn said again, slugging back his drink.

They discussed the art of brewing for nearly an hour. She learned many things. Snape was one to dispense knowledge to his favoured students bit by tantalizing bit, but Slughorn shared freely. She liked Snape, but she adored Sluggy.

“My goodness, look at the time,” he said sadly.

“I’m sorry too, Professor. We’ll do it again soon.”

“We shall indeed, my dear, but please. We are colleagues. Call me Horace. All my friends do.”

The old professor was utterly charming, even if he was grotesquely obese. No one had yet developed a magical treatment for fatness. Patients under long-term care had their bodily waste removed via magical transportation. Perhaps fat could be removed in the same fashion. She made a mental note to investigate. Perhaps she could study the matter when she became a Master Healer. Carrying all that weight couldn’t be good for him, and a man that brilliant was needed with the dark future they all faced.

* * *

 

Potter was training an army.

He didn’t quite realize what he was doing, but he was doing it nonetheless.

It was rather disturbing to see how good they were, for students. They would only get better. They were working on their accuracy, precision, speed, and repeatability. They worked on defence, avoidance, and countering. They worked on mixing Charms and Curses with Transfiguration. They were shaping up to be a formidable fighting force that could tilt the balance against the Death Eaters if the war raged long enough.

They’d even recruited a Healer. Granted she was only a Journeyman, but soon enough she would be a full Master. She could make a difference. The Dark Lord didn’t have any trained Healers. The violence was too much for them to take. He’d tried it a number of times before. Each had chosen a way out. The peace of spirit required for healing energy was destroyed by the sheer evil and hatred of the Death Eaters.

The observer watched, making notes to go in a report. Names, houses, blood status, and particularly strong individuals were noted. There were many potential recruits. There were many targets presented.

The observer smiled. The Dark Lord would be very pleased. Information was only the second task, and the first was well underway.


	16. Happy Halloween

Most people enjoyed Halloween. Harry did not. He quite detested the holiday and failed to see much point in it. Nothing good ever seemed to happen on Halloween. He had been orphaned in 1981. Dudley had taken him around to collect candy every year and then stolen the whole sack as soon as they got home. Quirrell had let a troll into the school in 1991. Tom Riddle, through Ginny, had baited the Weasley boys into attacking Draco in 1992. Sirius had broken into Hogwarts and caused a panic in 1993, when he’d been on the run from the Ministry. 1994 had been the fiasco with the Goblet of Fire. In 1995, nothing  _ too _ bad had happened, but Hagrid had returned from his mission to the giants, and that was bad news for students taking Care of Magical Creatures.

This year would be different. Now there would be happy memories. Remus and Tonks were getting married. The two were so in love it was almost sickening. The dreamy look each of them got when thinking about the other was enough to turn the average teenage boy’s stomach. They acted exactly like Harry had seen the Malfoys and the Tonkses behave.

Harry had never been to a wedding, let alone been in one, so he was relying on Sirius to steer him right. While under most circumstances this would be inviting all manner of trouble, Sirius wasn’t about to ruin his good and dear friend’s special day with some childish prank. As he said, the pranking could come later, during the reception or on the honeymoon.

“Nothing to it, Harry. You’re a groomsman, so your job is to stand there and look handsome. You’ll have to walk one of the bridesmaids down the aisle. Actually, since you’re the only groomsman, you’ll have to walk  _ the _ bridesmaid down the aisle. I’ll be waiting up at the front with Remus. You and the bridesmaid will come down. Then the maid of honour will come down. Then the bride. Then they say a bunch of words, the bride and groom snog, and we all get pissed.”

That sounded delightful. Harry was looking forward to it.

The wedding was going to be all-Muggle, at St. Mary’s Church in Banbury. Narcissa had fought long and hard for a wizarding ceremony, but Tonks wanted to be married in the church where she’d grown up. Remus had no particular religious preference (for reasons that are another tale entirely), so he’d taken Tonks’ side, as any wise groom should.

The wedding party met up at the Tonks house to drive over to the church for the rehearsal. Sirius brought Harry via Side-Along since Harry had only been there a few times and couldn’t picture it well enough to Apparate.

Andromeda hugged Harry quickly and gave him a smooch on the cheek. “You’re looking well, Harry. Much better than when I saw you last. Getting more sleep, I see. Have you been eating properly?”

“Yes, Aunt Andromeda.”

“Good. I want to check your vital signs before we leave.”

Harry kind of liked being fussed over by his aunt, not having had a proper family for most of his life. Ever since he’d gotten home from his fifth year at school Andromeda had been keeping an eye on his health. She sat him up on the counter in the kitchen and waved her wand over him a few times.

“You’re not eating enough vegetables,” she said immediately.

He grinned. “You always say that.”

She was not amused. “It’s always true. Less bread, more carrots.”

Harry had no intention of giving up bread.  _ Carrots? I suppose I could eat more of those. _

“You’re otherwise in good health. Your essential bodily fluids seem to be purifying, aside from the link with Voldemort, of course.”

Harry was glad to learn that his precious bodily fluids were in good order.

The drive to the church was uneventful aside from a few unruly drivers. Ted was Muggleborn and perfectly comfortable operating a motor vehicle. He navigated the lane with easy confidence.

“I’ll do it in a pinch,” Andromeda confessed, “but I still don’t like to. I’ll trust magic every time.”

There was a bit of magic about the car, as it seated everyone quite comfortably.

St. Mary’s was a modest little affair. It seated perhaps two hundred snugly. They were expecting perhaps forty guests in all, mostly Muggle relatives from Ted’s side of the family.

Suddenly there was a piercing shriek that was not at all appropriate for a house of worship.

“Nym!”

“Mal!”

Tonks ran forward and embraced a black-haired witch with a dark tan.

“You excited?”

“Scared to death.”

Mal smirked. “I can’t wait to hear all about the wedding night. You do remember our oath.”

Tonks wibbled. “Oh no, now I do.”

“What’s this now?” Remus asked.

“Nothing, dear. Remus, everyone, I want you to meet Malissa Masterson, my best friend from Hogwarts.”

“Hi everyone!”

Tonks made the introductions quickly. Malissa had spent several years in America and had picked up a bit of an accent.

“So the only person we’re waiting on is Charlie, right?” Malissa said.

“Right.”

“Charlie?” Remus said.

“My bridesmaid,” Tonks said simply.

“I thought it was Carly.” Remus looked confused. 

“No, dear. Charlie. Weasley.”

Harry started. The bridesmaid was a bridesman?

“I thought you said she- er, he was a friend from school.”

“He was my boyfriend for awhile. That counts.”

Remus looked about to disagree, but Sirius elbowed him.

“Oh. Right.”

“Wait, so I have to escort a guy?” Harry said, trying to clarify the situation.

Tonks grinned nervously at him. “I probably should have warned you. It is kind of mean to spring it on you like this.”

“Funny though,” Sirius put in.

Harry chuckled. “Is he going to be wearing a dress?”

“No, I couldn’t talk him into that,” Tonks said with a trace of regret. “It’s no big deal. You don’t have to link arms or anything.”

Charlie arrived a few minutes later. “Hey everybody!”

“Hey, Chaz. Your dress is waiting for you.”

“Still on that, Nym?”

“You lost the bet!”

“It wasn’t a real bet and you know it.”

“Such a welcher! When you find a woman silly enough to have you, I’m going to make sure she knows what a welcher you are.”

Before further accusations could be made, the minister arrived. He was a large man, over six feet tall. He had short curly black hair that was receding in the corners. He was powerfully built, with an equally powerful deep voice. “Hello, Remus, Tonks. Hello, everyone else. I’m the Senior Pastor, Lincoln Burncoat.”

“Nice to meet you, Pastor,” Sirius said. “I’m the best man, Sirius Black.”

“Now, I’ve done a lot of weddings in my time, and I expect that I will do many more. I can tell you what works and what doesn’t work. Remus and Tonks here have settled on a fairly simple format, not a lot of standing around waiting for music to play. There are a couple of hymns that we will sing, but there’s no lull in the action, so to speak.”

The rehearsal went off after a few hitches. Pastor Burncoat walked them through everything several times until they all had it down pat.

“Good,” he said when they had completed the second perfect run-through. “I think we’re done. See you all here tomorrow at one o’clock.”

Everyone returned to Number Twelve where Kreacher had prepared enough food for a multitude. Tonks brought Charlie, since he wasn’t being told the Secret. Once he left, he wouldn’t be able to find the house again.

“So, Nym, I’ll meet you at the church tomorrow morning,” Charlie said.

“You won’t be coming with us?” She sounded disappointed. “I was looking forward to putting your hair in curlers and painting your fingernails.”

“You and Malissa can have plenty of fun doing that by yourselves.”

“It’s more fun with more people.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he said with helpless laughter.

“Yup!”

“Don’t ever change.”

“I’m a Metamorphmagus. Change is rather what I do, genius.”

Charlie threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Tonks. Thanks for inviting me to be a part of your wedding. I’m truly honoured.” He turned to Remus. “She’s a magnificent woman, Remus. You’ve got quite a catch. I hope you know it.”

“I know it.” Remus kissed her hand.

“Has she ever told you about the time I caught her sneaking into the boys’ changing room in her fourth year?”

With that, the telling of old stories began.

The hour grew late, and the bride’s party departed. Tonks and her parents and Malissa went to the Tonks family house. Charlie was headed home to the Burrow for the night.

* * *

 

Charlie Apparated home to the designated point by the front gate and ambled up the way. 

There was always a light burning in the kitchen in the Weasley house, calling to those who were lost in darkness and needed a safe, warm, and homey place to be. It was a place of love and food, which was the same thing as love.

Mum was in the kitchen, supervising the dinner dishes as they finished washing themselves. She cast a Drying Charm on them, and the little droplets of water disappeared. She waved her wand again, and they began to file orderly from the drying rack to the cupboard.

“Oh, Charlie! You’re back.”

“Hi, Mum. Did you wait up for me?”

“No, not at all. I was just seeing to a few things, and-”

Charlie interrupted her with a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for waiting.”

Mum looked a bit flustered at being caught so easily. “Yes, well, times are dangerous.”

“That they are,” he said quietly.

Charlie had been back since Percy had been abducted. The family had all come together in that terrible time. He’d left Britain for Romania to escape from his parents’ house and see a bit of the world beyond their little scrap of land. Now he wished he’d stayed closer. Maybe he could have protected his baby brother better.

It had been hard to go from being the youngest to being the middle child. Bill had sat him down and explained how he shouldn’t resent Percy for stealing Mum’s affections. There was still just as much love for him, and by being a good big brother he could continue to grow in her affections. It had been quite an adjustment, but it had been eased somewhat two years later by the birth of the twins and later by Ron and then Ginny.

Charlie felt he was a decent older brother. Yes, he’d gone out to make his way in the world, but Bill had also gone, to another continent even. He wrote home regularly and sent money when he was able. He’d even paid for his parents to have a vacation in Romania and visit him a few years ago. Percy was mostly recovered, but Charlie’s big brother hackles were raised.

Mum tried to be cheerful. “So, the wedding rehearsal; how did it go?”

“It went fine. Tomorrow should be smooth sailing. I can’t believe Tonks is getting married.”

“When will it be your turn, Charlie?”

This was a conversation he and his mother often had.

“Some day. I’ve got to find the right girl first.”

“Are you really trying to find her though?”

“I know you don’t believe me, but yes, Mum, I have tried to find her. There’s not a lot of witches that like dragons, you know. Not up close and personal, anyway. But I love the big lizards, and I know I’ll always be around them.”

She sighed resignedly. “I still don’t understand it, but as long as it makes you happy, I suppose I don’t have to.”

“Thanks, Mum.” He kissed her cheek again. “Is everyone else gone to bed?”

It was quite the thing to have most of the family back under one roof again. With the exception of Ron and Ginny at Hogwarts, the entire family was back home. Bill had returned from Egypt, taking a leave of absence from his job. Charlie had done the same. His bosses had understood instantly and urged him to go as soon as he could, excusing him from work without hassle. Charlie and Bill were even sharing a room again, though Bill was considering taking Ron’s room for the nonce. He would have taken his old room back from Ginny, but it had been done over for the first Weasley girl in seven generations. He preferred orange to pink, though he was by no means a Cannons fan. He and Charlie had had many late night conversations about their guilt about being so far away when the family was in danger. 

“Yes, even the twins. They had a busy day at the shop and both ended up working double plus shifts again.”

Mum had never approved of the twins’ pranks and antics. Now that they had managed to secure investment from Draco Malfoy --  _ of all people, they managed to borrow money from a  _ Malfoy -- they had actually established a small storefront in Diagon Alley. Business was booming, and they were already talking about expansion. Mum shook her head whenever the topic came up, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Do you ever tell them how proud of them you are?”

She sighed. “I try not to. It only encourages them.”

“They’re successful businessmen despite your attempts to stop it. Imagine what they could have accomplished if you had let them.”

She flushed, not liking this gentle rebuke from her second son.

“If this is about why you went to Romania-”

“Mum, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start an argument. It’s late. I’m tired, I’m a little tipsy-”

“Tipsy? You were Apparating while tipsy?” Her voice rose several octaves. “You could have been Splinched! You could have died! Charles Alexander Weasley, you know better!”

“I’m fine, Mum. No, I don’t need you to fix my boo-boos. I’m okay.”

“Get yourself up to bed, mister. You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow. You’ll need to be well-rested.”

Charlie smiled. It was good to be home again.

* * *

 

The groom’s party rose late the next morning. They ate kingly breakfasts and had several hours to digest it before they donned their tuxedos.

Remus was outwardly calm, but he confessed, “I’m petrified. Am I doing the right thing? I’m not some old lecher, am I? She’s too young for me.”

Sirius laughed. “You are an old lecher, but I suppose that’s only natural, as you were a young lecher too. She’s not too young. She’s twenty-four years old and more than capable of making her own decisions. Where is it written that you’re only allowed to seek a partner among people your own age? Just because you’re physically old doesn’t mean you’re emotionally mature.”

“You being a prime example of that,” Remus quipped.

Sirius threw a balled up pair of socks at him, and they bounced off his head.

“You’re only as old as you feel. Tonks has a good head on her shoulders, but she’s also a lot of fun, and I think fun is exactly what you need from a partner.” His voice dropped in pitch. “You’ve had a lot of rough times, Remus. You’re allowed to have some happiness too, you know.”

“I know, it’s just-”

“Do you love her?” Sirius said, all joking put aside.

“More than anything.”

“Then you’re doing the right thing.” Sirius quickly hid an evil smirk. “Well, she might get a better offer in the next hour or so.”

“From who?” Remus sputtered, dropping his cufflinks and reaching for his wand. “Who’s she going to see? Charlie? I’ll thrash that lizard wrangler.”

Sirius and Harry were laughing now. “You are too easy to wind up.”

Harry’s tuxedo fit him perfectly. He wasn’t sure why, but every bit of wizarding formalwear seemed to fit him wrong. He was forever tugging at his collar or his sleeves or something else. This Muggle garment was flawlessly tailored.

Remus Side-Alonged Sirius and Harry to the wooded area at the back of the parking lot.

“Nice spot, Remus,” Sirius said, taking slow and easy strides.

They strolled out casually, looking like nothing more than some blokes who’d stepped out for a smoke. Several autos were already in the lot.

The groom’s party met Pastor Burncoat in the vestibule.

“Ah, gentlemen, you’re here in plenty of time. Everyone ready? Everyone excited?”

Remus looked like he was about to stop breathing.

“Just fine, Pastor,” Sirius said smoothly. “Say, can we go over those movements one more time?”

“Certainly. Let’s go up to the front.”

Sirius had his wand out and concealed behind his back, and he twitched it every few steps as the pastor went through the movements.

“Does everyone understand?”

“Yes,” Sirius said. “I just wanted to make absolutely certain.”

“Even the best-laid plans can be brought to ruin, Sirius. There was one time where the ring bearer was a bit clumsy, and it was feared he would drop the ring. They were supposed to use a single stitch to attach the ring to the pillow. Well, that ring would not come off that pillow without scissors.”

Everyone had a jolly good laugh. 

“Then another time the ring bearer offered the ring up for me to hold up in prayer, but he tripped and the ring fell to the floor and began to roll away. Everyone was just watching it in dead silence, and the flower girl piped up with, ‘Wow, look at that son of a bitch roll!’”

Sirius doubled over.

“Years from now, Remus, whatever goes wrong today will be funny for you and Tonks as well. Even better are the stories of all the things that almost went horribly wrong and ruined everything but were miraculously saved by heroic efforts that people will start telling you in about a month.”

Remus goggled at him.

The guests had began to arrive.

The pastor checked the time. “I need to go get ready. I will see you at the front. Better keep an eye on him. He looks like he might do a runner.”

Harry thought the pastor might be onto something.

“Well, best get him in position then,” Sirius said. “Harry, you good to go out here?”

“I think so,” he said warily.

“Not to worry. The bridal party will be along shortly and take charge of everything.”

Groom and best man walked up to the front of the church, though it is more proper to say that the best man had a death grip on the groom’s arm and was guiding him firmly to the front of the church.

Guests continued to arrive and were ushered to their seats by a few Muggle gentlemen in sedate black and grey suits.

Harry was all alone in the vestibule. He hoped he would get this all right. He wanted today to be perfect for Tonks and Remus. His hands were sweating. He reached into the pockets of his tuxedo and squeezed the tissues.

“Hey, hey.”

Harry turned around.

Charlie had a tuxedo identical to the one the other men were wearing, but his accent colours were the same yellow as the maid of honour’s dress.

“Pretty sharp,” Harry said.

“Thanks. I never thought I looked good in yellow.”

“Are we ready?”

“Almost. Tonks is having a little trouble controlling her hair.”

Harry knew what that was like, even if not in precisely the same way.

* * *

 

Sirius stood at the altar with an increasingly nervous Remus.

“Why are we standing up here like idiots in front of the crowd?” Remus demanded. “Why can’t we wait off to the side until we get the signal?”

“Tradition?” Sirius said cheekily.

Remus scowled. “Sodding stupid tradition, if you ask me. Why does everyone get to gawk at me?”

“There needs to be some entertainment before the big show,” Sirius said lightly.

“Maybe I should start dancing.”

“That could be fun, but I’m afraid I’ve Sticky Charmed your feet to the floor.”

Remus’ eyes bulged. “You did what?”

“Well, we can’t have you getting away now, can we?”

It was generally considered bad form to use magic at a wedding, but it would probably be overlooked to prevent the groom from escaping.

“I hope the Muggles didn’t see you.”

“I set the charm when no one was around.”

“And it affects only me? Sirius, I had no idea you were so versed in Arithmancy.”

“I had a bit of help from Harry.”

“How nice of him,” Remus said sarcastically

“I’ll tell him you appreciate him.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that.” Remus glanced toward the back of the church for the hundredth time. “When are we going to get started?”

“When the bride is good and ready. Not before.”

“You don’t think she’s changed her mind, do you?” Remus was suddenly panicked.

“Absolutely not!” Sirius hissed. “Why would you even think that?”

“We’re not starting on time. We should have started fifteen minutes ago.”

“Will you relax? I can’t do a Soothing Spell on you here.”

* * *

 

Malissa, the maid of honor, looked amazing in her yellow dress.

“Yow,” Charlie said, bending down gallantly and kissing her hand. “Save me a few dances at the reception.”

“You bet!”

“Tell me, how do you feel about dragons?”

The question clearly confused her. “Dragons?”

“Okay, let’s do this,” interrupted Tonks.

She looked beautiful. Harry told her so.

She smiled. “Aw, you’re sweet, Harry.”

“It’s just the truth.”

“I hope Remus thinks so.”

“How could he not?”

A slow, brassy song began to play, the signal that the ceremony was starting. The double doors were opened by the nice gentlemen in the plain suits. 

Harry and Charlie walked down the aisle. Sirius and Remus waited at the front of the church at the base of the steps. Sirius looked nearly manic. Remus looked like he was about to pass out. When they reached the top of the aisle, Harry and Charlie turned away from each other. Harry joined the line while Charlie stood alone on the bride’s side.

Malissa took plenty of time to join them. 

The music changed to the traditional bridal march, and the few guests rose to their feet.

Tonks looked like an angel. Her gown was a brilliant white that seemed to glow with an inner light. Decorative lace covered the whole thing. There were gemstones in various places, and she glittered in the sunlight. Under her veil, her hair was pink, perfectly matching the bouquet of flowers she clutched before her.

Ted was visibly filled with pride as he escorted his only child down the aisle. Andromeda and Narcissa were already crying in the front row.

Remus looked completely overwhelmed. His heart was in his eyes as he watched his bride approach.

They paused so Ted could lift her veil and reveal her face. He kissed her cheek gently before shaking hands with Remus firmly and passing him her hand. The happy couple moved to stand in front of the pastor.

Without warning, Tonks stumbled, seeming to trip on the front edge of her gown. She went down in a tumble, taking Remus with her. The bouquet went flying, and Harry was quick enough with his Seeker reflexes to snatch it out of the air.

The bride was using language more suited to a tavern than a celebration of nuptials. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn heels!”

Harry tried his best not to laugh, but then he caught sight of Sirius’ face and let out a snicker. In seconds, everyone except the happy couple was overcome with mirth. Even the minister was smiling.

Remus regained his feet and helped Tonks up. Her veil was crooked, she’d lost her shoes, and she was flushed with embarrassment. “Let’s get on with it.”

Harry reached across the aisle and handed the bridal bouquet to Malissa.

Pastor Burncoat raised his arms in benediction.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate with Remus and Nymphadora as they join their lives in the eyes of God. Let us pray for them and this journey they go on now together.”

Tonks’ smile became just a bit fixed. She had asked the pastor to call her Tonks during the ceremony. She was going to change it legally once she was married, to Tonks Black Lupin. Someone had dared to counter the bride’s wishes? There were only a few likely suspects.

After a prayer, a hymn, another prayer, and another hymn, they got down to the readings.

“A reading from the Song of Solomon, chapter eight, verses six and seven. ‘Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of one's house, it would be utterly scorned.’”

Harry chose to watch Remus and Tonks during the reading. Tears of joy leaked from her eyes and she kept wiping them away with a tissue. 

“A reading from first Corinthians thirteen. ‘If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous. Love does not brag and is not arrogant and does not act unbecomingly. It does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.’”

When the readings were finished, they sang another hymn before the minister began to preach. “Remus and Nymphadora, you have come here today to marry in the eyes of God and the eyes of humanity. Marriage is a joining of the male and the female, two energies that are different. Each has strengths, each has weaknesses. They complement each other. Together they succeed where individually they fail. In the Far East they call it the yin and the yang. In the light of God, these energies twine into one purpose and are directed toward the future.

“Remus and Nymphadora, take a look around. We all can plainly see the love that shines between you. We are here today because we believe in that love, and we believe in you and God’s plan for you. You now stand before your life partner, your best friend, the one whom God meant for you to find and be with for all the days of your lives. You will support one another, comfort each other, each contributing to the mutual strength you both depend on. Work in harmony and not at cross-purposes. 

“Marriage is hard work. There will be trials and tribulations, but the reward is great and worthy. If you’re really ready for this, then let’s get to it.”

They had considered having a candle that they would light together, but the clumsy bride had vetoed it. Given what had already gone on today, it was probably for the best.

“If there is anyone here who show just cause why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, then let that person speak now or be forever silent.”

There were no objections.

In short order it came time for the rings, Sirius solemnly handed them over. Pastor Burncoat held them up for all to see.

“The ring is the symbol of marriage. It is a circle, signifying wholeness and perfection. It has no beginning and no end and is thus appropriate to represent oneness and unity. It is eternal, as your love for each other will endure beyond this life. The hole of the ring is also significant, representing a gateway, a door leading to things and events both known and unknown. We ask you, O Lord, to bless these rings, and to bless the marriage of Remus and Nymphadora. May they walk forever in the light of your Truth. Amen.”

The pastor asked the couple to exchange vows. They’d elected not to write their own vows. Remus had claimed to be no good with words, and Tonks could barely squeak out “I do” to the various questions.

“By the power vested in me by her Majesty’s government, I declare you now to be husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Remus tried to keep it dignified. Tonks was having none of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snogged him thoroughly. Sirius and Harry began to clap.

Pastor Burncoat raised his hands in benediction. “Dearly beloved, I present Mister and Missus Remus and Nymphadora Lupin.”

Tonks broke the kiss and looked livid. Her mother and Mrs. Malfoy had likely bribed the pastor not to announce her as Tonks Lupin, which she intended as her new name.

“Remus and Nymphadora, go from this place and begin your new life together. May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you. May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace. Amen.”

The organ began to play the recessional. The jubilant bride and groom turned and walked down the aisle. Sirius and Malissa linked arms and followed. Harry and Charlie did not link arms and followed them. The parents of the bride were escorted by Pastor Burncoat.

The receiving line seemed to take forever, and then there were a million pictures to take. Harry’s face felt like it would fall off from smiling so much.

The reception was held immediately following, in the function room of the church. The guests were able to snack on finger sandwiches and juice and coffee until the wedding party arrived.

After the wedding party had been introduced (the DJ at least announced them as Mr. and Mrs. Remus and Tonks Lupin), they had the first dance, followed immediately by the bride and father dance. Remus’ parents had died nearly ten years ago, so there was no dance with his mum.

Sirius took the microphone at that point. “Remus, we’ve been friends for more than twenty years now. We have spent part of that time not speaking. We have spent part of it having the most amazing adventures with two other lads who have since passed on. I’m glad you’ve taken your long overdue chance at happiness. It couldn’t be with a better girl. Tonks, this morning you were my cousin’s daughter. Tonight you’re my sister-in-law, because Remus is my brother not of blood. In that aspect, both of you welcome to the family. I love you both. Cheers!”

The champagne toast was very bubbly.

“And one more for our lost brothers, James and Peter,” Remus added.

Sirius paused for a moment, but he nodded. “To James and Peter.”

Harry didn’t want to drink to his parents’ betrayer, but he knew Remus and Sirius didn’t quite see it that way. They were toasting the memory of the good friend he’d been, the co-conspirator in crime, the fourth Marauder, the young man who had died to them when he accepted the Dark Mark on his arm and in his heart. With a swig of champagne, Harry washed away the memory of the dementor sucking out Peter’s soul.

The wedding feast was magnificent. Kreacher had refused all help in the kitchen, insisting that he alone would prepare the meal for a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. All of the Muggle guests asked over and over, “Who did the catering?”

The cake was a modest three tier affair. Even if the guests ate nothing but cake, there would still be at least half of it left over.

There was lots of dancing. The DJ played Muggle top 40 mixed with certain wizard songs. Harry knew the Muggles would never notice, but there was one fellow who kept approaching the DJ when one of the wizard songs came on. He clearly knew his music and wanted to know why he’d never heard of these great songs.

When the night was winding down, a very inebriated Sirius got on the microphone. “Remus and Tonks, your carriage awaits.”

“He didn’t,” Tonks said speculatively.

“Oh, he certainly did,” Remus said with resignation. “Sirius is not a boastful man.”

Tonks raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “He’s not?”

“What I mean is that he’s not a braggart. He boasts about things that are true. He’s not really a liar. He says a lot of outrageous things, but they are mostly true.”

The carriage was a magnificent affair.

Tonks turned to face the crowd. “Are you ready?”

She threw the bouquet directly at Sirius, and he caught it more out of reflex than any desire. Considering his state of inebriation, it was quite impressive.

“You’re next, Sirius!” she called.

“Of all the tricks!” Sirius roared back. “Not likely!”

With the bride and groom gone, the party quickly dispersed. Sirius had been prescient enough to arrange a portkey, and he and Harry got back to Number Twelve without any fuss.

“Well, that was fun,” Sirius said as they headed upstairs.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “I’m happy for them.”

“Thrilled.”

After bidding Sirius good night and closing his bedroom door, Harry lay down in the dark and was suddenly crying. He groped for the handkerchief and wiped at his eyes. 

It had been a spectacular day. Harry had truly had a great deal of fun. He was ecstatic for Remus, the second Marauder to get hitched. It had been a bit stressful, a bit solemn, and entirely Sirius. It was an emotional event Harry knew he would remember for the rest of his life.

Being so involved and hearing all the stories from Remus and Sirius had made him wonder about the first Marauder wedding. He hadn’t yet worked himself up to watching his parents' wedding in the pensieve. It was there, waiting for him. He had held off for now, fearing he might not be able to cope with it.  _ Given how I’m reacting to Remus getting married, I think that might have been wise. _

  
  



	17. The Locket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The OQM in this chapter was ghostwritten by Ruairi J.L..

November was a depressing month. The days grew noticeably shorter now that the northern hemisphere was tilted away from their infrequent visitor, the sun. The ceiling in the Great Hall was often filled with grey storm clouds. It snowed every other day, accumulating in great piles and drifts all over the grounds.

Since her elevation to Captain, Millie had driven the team mercilessly, never moreso than in the days leading up to the match. She announced additional practices, and many members of the team had to choose between homework, sleep, or eating. Millie was terrified of being a failure as the first female captain, and she drove her new members near to quitting. Harry had been on-hand to hear one such exchange.

Estrella Mendoza and Arcen approached Millie when the sixth years were gathered around a table by the fireplace in the common room doing homework.

"Go on, Estrella," Arcen said gently.

"Captain Bulstrode?" said Estrella Mendoza, her voice quavering a bit. She played nervously with her brown ponytail.

"What is it, Mendoza?" Millie didn't look up.

The poor girl began to tremble. "I-I, er, that is, we- we wanted to talk to you about practices."

Millie’s quill kept scratching. "The next one is tomorrow at five in the morning."

Arcen gave Estrella an affirming nod. "N-no, it wasn't a question. We- we think your practices are too much."

The quill stopped. "What are we doing too much of? What do you think we need to focus more on?"

"N-no,” her voice was quavering now. “There are too many and they are too long."

Now Millie looked up, and the younger student began to tremble again.

"We- we- we need a break."

"There are no breaks in Quidditch."

"Actually there are," Theo piped up. "Time-outs can be called."

"Shut up, Theo," Millie said, not taking her eyes off of Estrella. "There are no breaks in Quidditch training. There are far too many new people on this team for my comfort, myself included. You'll note that I'm not asking you to do anything I'm not doing myself, plus I have a whole bunch of other things that I do, so excuse me if I find you just a bit whingy. Practice is at five. Be there."

"No," Arcen said, finally speaking.

Millie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. "What did you just say to me?"

Arcen held his ground. "No, Captain?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?" she demanded incredulously.

"We quit," Arcen said defiantly. "You've lost it, Millie. You've let being captain go to your head. You were a nightmare before, but now you're completely out of control."

Millie's grin became a bit fixed. "You can't quit. The match is in two weeks. You have to play."

Arcen glared at his older sister. "Then back off with the practice marathons. You're going to burn us out. We won't be any good for the match."

"You'd better be good,” she said ominously, “or I will dismember you."

He snorted derisively. "See, that's what I'm talking about. That's not good motivation."

"Is it motivation?" Millie looked a bit wild around the eyes.

"I'm used to you, but the team thinks you're serious, and it's hurting morale."

"I am entirely serious," Millie said, reaching for her wand. "Arcen, you've got five seconds to get out of my sight until tomorrow morning."

"Go ahead and try it," Arcen said, brandishing his own wand.

"Hey," Harry said, finally looking up from his essay. "No duelling outside of Club."

"This isn't duelling, Harry," Millie said sweetly. "This is me enforcing team discipline."

"All right, then," he said, looking back to his notes.

She looked back at her little brother. "Are you still here, Arse?"

"I'm tired of you calling me that!" He flicked his wand, attempting a non-verbal spell.

Millie was so stunned that her baby brother was daring to raise his wand to her that she didn't block the curse in time. She went flying back, her chair scraping on the floor, and tumbled in a heap.

Harry glanced up, but Millie had asked him to stay out of it. This was more than a team matter; it was also a family matter, one that had been a long time building up before boiling over.

Estrella turned and fled, but Arcen looked triumphant.

"How's it feel to get kicked around, Millie?" he demanded. “I’m done letting you stomp all over me. I’m almost a man, and it’s time you started giving me some respect!”

Millie responded with non-verbal magic of her own. She'd managed to hold onto her wand and now she was going to make him pay.

Arcen dodged the spell, but he didn't avoid the second curse, and he was instantly bound with ropes. He toppled to the floor and writhed helplessly.

Millie got to her feet and brushed herself off. "You shouldn't have gloated, Arse," she said in a low voice. "Almost a man? Please. You're such a talker. Now you'll scream." She looked at Harry. "I've got a live target for the next Duelling Club meeting. He can practice dodging, and we can practice against a moving target."

Harry considered her proposition.

"Tell you what, Arcen," he said at last. "If you don't quit the team, I won't take Millie up on her offer. If you quit, then we get to see how nimble you are. What do you say?"

Amidst his shrieked obscenities was an agreement.

"Thank you, Harry," Millie said, taking her seat again. She cast a Silencing Charm on Arcen, leaving him tied up and thrashing on the floor.

Nobody had complained about Quidditch practice since.

* * *

 

Slytherin and Gryffindor met once more on the Quidditch pitch in the brisk November morning. The turnout was high, as it always was for any match.

Harry would be watching from the stands today. He had given up the Captaincy, regarding the sport as something extremely fun that he just didn't have time for under the present circumstances. He might have been okay with leading the team this year in a time of peace, but it was an all or nothing proposition. The Captain was apparently required to become an utter raving maniac.

Captain Millicent pulled Ginny aside before they went into the tunnel out to the Quidditch pitch.

"Listen, Ginny," she began, gripping the smaller girl’s shoulders tightly. "Our Chasers are all new, and so is our Keeper. You find the snitch, and you find it fast. If you let your miserable sod of a brother beat you to that snitch, I swear to Salazar's ghost-"

"I'll catch it, Millie!" Ginny interrupted.

"You'd better or you'd better die trying, because I will kill you."

Ginny laughed. Millie didn't.

Millie’s eyes were intense, filled with Quidditch madness. "I will not let my first match as Captain end in defeat. You win this match for us or I will find a seeker who can."

Millie walked away, and butterflies began to churn in Ginny's stomach. She’d been nervous before, but now she had a death mark.

It was the first time she would take to the skies under colours to which she hadn’t been Sorted. She’d had a bit of angst about going out for the team in the first place. She was only an adopted Slytherin. She had a few of the traits but was a true Gryffindor, or so the Sorting Hat had told her. 

She had been ravenous at breakfast, and now it was sitting in her stomach like an inanimate Bludger.  _ I hope I don’t throw up. That would be embarrassing. Maybe I could do it in Ron’s general direction. That might get me some style points. _

The rest of the team was just as nervous. The only experienced players were the Beaters, Crabbe and Goyle. Gryffindor had a very good Chaser, still, in Katie Bell, and the Beaters had over four years of working together since Fred and George had been banned.

She winced as she thought about how they’d earned that ban. She’d been writing to Tom about how awful Draco Malfoy was, and he’d suggested a little payback. She didn’t remember the meeting where she’d recruited her brothers, nor the actual incident itself.

She liked that word: incident. It was such a clean, sterile word. It captured none of the horror of the roughing up the boys had given him, nor of the Body-Crush that Tom had cast on him. It was Dark and foul magic, and her brothers had thought it came from her. They’d taken the blame for it, protecting her from justice. She loved them for their protective instincts, but if they hadn’t done that, maybe the teachers would have found out about Tom.

_ No, nobody would have discovered him. He was too smart, too clever for that. He was always one step ahead. He knew exactly what you were going to do three moments before you did. _

Waiting in the tunnel was not the best time or place to go remembering all of her worst memories. She tried to focus on the match, tried to remember every pointer she’d gotten from Harry or heard from Laine.

Laine had been the reserve seeker last year and had received training and guidance from Harry. She'd talked about it at length in the privacy of the girls dormitory. With Harry quitting the team and Laine dying so unexpectedly, there was no one ready to play as the seeker. Ginny had hoped to make chaser at one point, but circumstances let her play seeker. She was built right for the position, being rather petite. She'd been flying a broom since she was six years old, sneaking her brothers' brooms out of the shed. Though she had not been on the team at all, even as a reserve, Ginny had been the best candidate at the trials. She had been the first of the hopefuls to catch the snitch. She had done well in practice. She hoped she could perform when it counted.

“Ready, team?” Millie asked.

“Up Slytherin!” they screamed as one.

Then the whistle blew, fireworks exploded, and the spacey Luna Lovegood who someone had been mad enough to allow on the announcer’s station was calling their names to the roaring crowd. Ginny felt her nerves give way to excitement, and they took to the sky.

“The Gryffindor team: presenting Bell, Coote, Harker, MacDonald, McLaggen, Peake and Weasley!”

The lions of the crowd overruled her contemplative tone with their makeshift roars.

“And now the noble house of snakes, as they like to be known: Bulstrode, Bulstrode, Crabbe, Goyle, Mendoza, Slater and Weasley!”

The teams landed, and Millie and Katie Bell approached one another under the watchful gaze of Madam Hooch. There was less bad blood between this pair than there had been between Bletchley and Johnson last year, so the ribbing was mostly good-natured (if competitive). Hooch gave them her typical lecture, throwing in synonyms of “fair”, “clean” and “respect”. The captains shook hands and returned to their teams.

As fourteen students rose into the air, so came the excited screams of several hundred of their peers. Flags and banners were being waved by the entire student body, and scarves were worn proudly by the members of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Opposite Ginny on his prize Cleansweep 11 prototype was her brother Ron. Gryffindor's current seeker had been trained by the greatest seeker they'd ever had, their brother Charlie. During Ginny's third year, Charlie had been offered a very lucrative contract to play for Wimbourne and part of the offer was a loan of a Firebolt. Charlie hadn't been interested in the contract, but Ron had begged and pleaded with him to take a long time to make his response and had begged and pleaded even more to be allowed to borrow the Firebolt during that time. He had talked until Charlie had finally relented, and Ron had used the Firebolt to play Quodpot against Slytherin.

Ron scowled at her. He hated the fact that she'd resorted herself to Slytherin. He hated that she wore green and silver. He hated that she was friends with Harry Potter. He hated that she was dating Draco Malfoy. He really hated Draco Malfoy. She seemed to calculate her every action to produce maximum irritation. Now she was daring to play for the other team. You couldn't betray your house any further than to play Quidditch against the house team.

The weather was perfect for flying, a surprise given the time of year. The sky glistened blue, framed by a warming sun that hung overhead. Quidditch was a wonderful game, and Ginny Weasley had a special love for the sport, one that only a player could know. But her excitement was hampered by a nervy twinge in the pit of her stomach; replacing any regular was asking a lot, but to replace the greatest Seeker in many years of Hogwarts rosters? To replace the legendary Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One?

It was madness. It was insane. It was...  _ exhilarating _ . Ginny couldn’t wait to open up on the Nimbus Two Thousand that Draco had pressed on her in the name of giving Slytherin the best chance. She felt she had something to prove not only to the whole of Hogwarts, but to herself. First were her roommates, who had extended her their kindness and adopted her almost as a stepsister, now Ginny’s closest friends in the world. Then was the noble house of serpents itself, which protected her gallantly as the lions cried in betrayal.

Ginny had once thought she would never find a hatred more stifling than the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry on the Quidditch pitch, but that was before she had battled Death Eaters and watched her best friend be murdered. She missed Laine terribly and had wept a lifetime of tears afterwards. But perhaps something good was that the entire incident in the Ministry was a wake-up call for any in the castle Harry had sought out.

But even still, there were years of knots to wring out. The distrust was typically focused on suspected Death Eater ties and blood prejudice, depending on who you asked. For Ginny, there was enough trouble without the war throwing itself into the works like a spanner. Most importantly, she had to prove herself to Harry, to Ron and to the rest of the Slytherin team. For now she could forget about the house lines and focus on... well, house sporting lines. Umbridge had said last year Quidditch was important for boosting morale. Ginny agreed with that one hundred percent, provided it didn’t stretch tensions.

Ginny was snapped out of her reverie as Madam Hooch blew her whistle. There was a time and a place for this type of deep thinking, and the Quidditch pitch was not it. Now it was time to bring glory to Slytherin house.

“I’ve always thought whistles have a funny sound,” said Luna in a dreamlike voice. “They sound like the mating call of an Umbugular Slashkilter... the players really should hitch up their robe bottoms.”

Ginny snorted at that comment, which drew laughter from the crowd and an uncomfortable sort of twitching from McGonagall, who sat beside the eccentric Ravenclaw commentator. Ginny watched from the corner of one eye as Crabbe and Goyle aimed both Bludgers straight for her brother, who swore and dodged with the great manoeuvrability of his Cleansweep Eleven. In the following confusion, Millie threw the Quaffle to Arcen, who beat Gryffindor’s keeper McLaggen at his left-hand ring.

Slytherin supporters cheered and Gryffindors groaned in unison. It was hard not to laugh when Luna chose that exact moment to comment that the look on Ron’s face was due to an Umbugular Slashkilter trying to force its way into his nether regions. Her brother blushed fiercely, but Ginny ignored him as she flew around in search of the Snitch. She kept half an eye on her closest sibling, in case he had the luck to spot it first.

“Katie Bell scores,” McGonagall cut-in, as red and golden flags were flashed with tumultuous cheer. “Ten-ten.” She didn’t sound  _ overly _ biased.

A few seconds later, Ginny couldn’t help but stare in awe as Millie led her chasers into a Woollongong Skimmy, a lightning-fast zig-zag formation created by an Australian team to confuse the opposition. It was incredible; Millie took up the front as the most experienced flyer, with Arcen and Lucas on her flanks. The Gryffindor defence scattered as the green of Slytherin washed over them with the force of a rampaging tycoon. Millie feinted and tossed the ball to Arcen, who in turn threw to Lucas, who had utter determination etched on his face.

He had quietly told Ginny in the changing rooms that there would be no need for her to catch the snitch.

“I’m going to make sure we get a hundred and fifty points,” he had said. “For Laine.”

He seemed almost feral, growling as he flung himself about acrobatically, pushing his broom to the limits. He pushed his way past the Gryffindor chasers with brute force. McLaggen, who had been a Beater last year and was now playing Keeper for reasons only Bell would know, was getting quite a workout.

Bell had the quaffle and was moving it up the pitch with MacDonald and Harker. They managed to pull off a great play and got past the Slytherin chasers. They were all hunched over, and they didn’t see MacDonald with the quaffle until it was too late.

Estrella was facing the wrong way, but she flung herself off, holding onto the shaft with both hands, and  _ kicked  _ the ball with amazing grace. It was a beautiful variant of the Starfish and Stick manoeuvre. Bell took the high-speed quaffle directly in the face, and the stands erupted in gasps and cries of delight.

“Gryffindor fails to score,” Luna said with no interest. “Estrella flying like the star she was named for... I wonder if her parents got that name from the Faery Solstice.”

Ginny didn’t know what that was, but she didn’t particularly care.

Slytherin scored twice more in the following ten minutes, before a quick Gryffindor rally brought the scores to 40-30 in favour of the snakes. Ginny executed a textbook Sloth Grip Roll to avoid one of Coote’s Bludgers, earning applause from the section of Slytherins in the stands beside her. She caught Harry’s eye momentarily; he seemed conflicted, both smiling at her and plagued by thoughts of Laine, probably.

She ignored her own pangs of sorrow and put on a burst of speed, scouring the pitch with determined eyes. She saw Crabbe hit Ron in the shoulder with his bat, saw Madam Hooch shout at him and award a penalty, and saw Bell score as a result, but didn’t see the Snitch anywhere.

Determined to live up to her predecessors, Millie was now pulling ever-more extravagant manoeuvres out of her captain’s handbook, destroying the Gryffindor Chasers’ defence with ruthless efficiency. Slytherin scored three more goals in the next five minutes, so at ease they appeared to be flying without brooms. The Gryffindor contingent struggled to even touch the Quaffle in the flurry of interplay, grasping helplessly at thin air. It was teamwork at its finest, and it was clearly starting to infuriate her brother.

“You know, Gin, these goals won’t matter when I get the Snitch!” he shouted over at her, stopping nearby. His voice was more whip-like than the chill blowing, but they were pretty pathetic fighting words.

Ginny kept her eyes from becoming fixed, searching around. “They will if you’re losing by one hundred and fifty or more.”

_ Which looks possible _ , she smirked, as Millie scored her third of the match. Really, McLaggen wasn’t that bad, but he wasn’t being helped by MacDonald and Harker, who were too inexperienced to match Millie, Arcen and Lucas. Bell hadn’t been flying her best since taking that quaffle to the face.

“That green still disgusts me,” Ron yelled at her.

That caught Ginny’s attention. Her anger boiled. “Shut up, Ron! Focus on the match before I kick your arse in private later. There are no prizes for second, you know.”

“Good thing I’ll be getting first!” Ron shouted, before taking off into a dive.

Ginny felt her stomach contract and swore at being played. She saw the flutter of gold below and tore after him. With their brooms, Ginny knew she couldn’t hope to catch Ron without some trickery. He was edging closer to the Snitch now. Glancing around for Crabbe and Goyle, she gestured frantically. Millie had decided hand signals were a good idea in training, just for situations like this. The older boys caught Ginny’s meaning and aimed both Bludgers at Ron together, for the second time in one match. Crabbe was to his right, and his shot splintered half of the tail twigs on Ron’s broom, such was its force. Ginny swallowed in horror – she hadn’t meant for that to happen. Goyle was on the opposite side, in perfect alignment with his friend, and his caught the crippled Ron full in the stomach. Charlie had taught Ron all he knew, and he had been Gryffindor’s hero last year, but bad luck was inevitable at some point. Harry once told her that luck was always the eighth player in any match, and she took those words to heart.

Ginny watched as Ron plummeted about twenty metres to earth, before being slowed by Madam Hooch’s quick wand-work. His broom, caught by the momentum, spun to the ground and seemed to shatter as it landed point-down. It was still in one piece, but even the sturdiness of the Cleansweep Eleven was no match for gravity; the damage was immense.

He  _ would _ be in a bad mood when he woke up.

“Ronald Weasley must have been confused by the Wrackspurts,” Luna said over the Slytherin cheers. “His brain was a touch fuzzy.”

McGonagall wasn’t happy with that line and snatched the microphone just as another cheer erupted. “Slytherin scores again. They lead one-ten to fifty.”

“Ginny!”

Ginny shook herself as Millie’s scream brought her back to life. She blinked once. Twice. And saw the Snitch, trying to escape. Heart pounding, she zoomed after it, avoiding Bludgers that came her way. The crowd began to roar in anticipation, knowing the game was as good as over with Ron out of commission. Stretching her hand as far as it would go, Ginny begged her broom to go faster. The crowd disappeared in a blur as she hit top speed. When her fingers closed around the Snitch, a grin split her face open, and she forgot all about Ron’s troubles.

“Slytherin wins by two-sixty to fifty,” McGonagall said, sounding displeased.

“Oh, so they do,” Luna said, looking at the scoreboard in surprise. “The serpents will be feasting tonight.”

Landing, Ginny was quickly mobbed by her teammates and beamed at the Queen’s Chair lift they gave her in celebration. Although really, she just sat on Crabbe and Goyle’s shoulders, hoisting the Snitch above her head as the others cheered. Slytherin began to sing their victory songs and cheered her name, causing her to flush a little.

“Weasley is our queen;

She’ll wipe the lions clean!

We love her in green,

She’s a snake, true and mean!

Reborn as a snake,

She makes lions ache!

Oh Weasley is our queen!”

The team laughed and joined the crowd.

The verses continued until Ginny was the colour of scarlet, reminding the students that she did, in fact, used to be a Gryffindor. But on and on they sang, until she lost track of the words and the verses and instead smiled at the context. She had proven herself for real in their eyes, and had made her family of snakes proud to call her one of their own.

* * *

 

By the time Harry was called to the Headmaster’s office once again, he was chafing at the heels a bit. Their last lesson had been interesting, and Harry wondered what else there was to learn. Why had the old man waited so long? Wasn’t defeating Voldemort the most important thing in his life?

“Ah, welcome, Harry. Please take a seat. May I offer you any refreshment?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Harry accepted the cup of tea. He didn’t bother to hide as he cast spells of detection that he’d learned from Professor Moody.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, asking an unspoken question.

“Constant vigilance, sir.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said, sounding amused. “Tonight we shall explore the memory of myself. I was the teacher who initiated contact with Tom when he was only eleven years old.”

Harry wondered why they couldn’t have seen this memory sooner if it was Dumbledore’s own, but he chose not to ask.

“Before we do that, sir, I want to talk some more about the last memory.”

The headmaster hesitated for the barest of moments. “Certainly, Harry. What is it?”

Harry took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. “I’ve seen that locket before.”

Truly, absolutely nothing rocked Dumbledore’s calm demeanour. “Indeed? That is most interesting. Where and when do you think you saw the locket?”

Harry bristled at the old man’s patronizing choice of language. “I don’t think I saw it. I saw it. It came into my possession a little over two years ago. We were cleaning out our house, and it was in a display case. I thought it was cool, so I kept it. It hung on a mirror in my bedroom until I gave it to Laine at Christmas last year.”

Dumbledore looked up sharply. “You gave the locket to Miss Slater?”

“Yes, sir. I figured the S could stand for Slater.”

“Of course. Go on.”

Harry tried to sum up the whole six months. “After I gave it to her, she began to act strangely. All of a sudden she was having these mood swings, and we started fighting because she always wanted to know what I was doing when I wasn’t with her. At first, Sirius and I thought it was just normal teenage girl stuff, but now that I know where the locket came from, I wonder.”

“That is indeed a most fascinating coincidence were it otherwise,” Dumbledore mused. “Yes, I believe I can say with a great deal of confidence that it was the cause of her change.”

“There’s more, sir. That night we all went to the Ministry, Ginny had a vision. She saw Elan and Percy about to be cast through the veil.”

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. “You believe Miss Weasley may be a Seer?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t. She was wearing the locket at the time. Laine would sometimes let the other girls try on her stuff. Ginny was trying on the locket, had the vision, and gave it back. Then Laine had the same vision.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard with his right hand. He said nothing for a very long moment.

“Fascinating,” he said at last.

“Sir?” Harry had been hoping for some profound insight.

Dumbledore gazed into nothing. “I will have to devote much thought to this new information. Where is the locket now?”

“At home.”

“I see. Harry, I should like very much to examine that locket,” Dumbledore requested. “Do you suppose you might ask Sirius to send it up?”

Harry wasn’t sure what the old man hoped to learn, but it couldn’t hurt to build a little bit of trust. Maybe then he’d share some of those deep thoughts.

“I’ll ask him,” Harry promised.

“Thank you. Now, as to our purpose tonight.”

“Yes." Harry was glad to get to the point. "Your memory?”

“Not quite yet,” Dumbledore deferred. “There is one more that I believe is even more significant now. We are going to hear the testimony of Caractacus Burke.”

“As in Borgin and Burke’s?”

Dumbledore frowned. “I shall refrain from asking how you know that disreputable shop.”

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes. 

“Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along…Going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin’s. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, ‘Oh, this was Merlin’s, this was, his favorite teapot,’ but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn’t seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!” 

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

“I knew he was scum,” Harry said hotly. “Ten lousy Galleons for something that belonged to Slytherin himself? To a mother in need?”

“There are many words to describe the late Caractacus Burke. Generous is not one of them,” said Dumbledore. “So we know that Merope was alone in London, close to delivering her baby, so in need of money that she was willing to sell the only thing of true value she possessed.”

“Why was she so desperate? She had a wand. She could do magic. Was she really a squib like Marvolo called her?”

“She never came to Hogwarts, though her name was on the list. I believe that her father simply never bothered to instruct her properly. What magic she could perform, she learned by watching her father and brother. I have considered the matter most thoroughly, and the best explanation I can derive is that she rejected magic, renounced being a witch at all. The other strong possibility is that her powers were sapped by her unrequited love and the affiliated despair. Though a sad question to ponder, it is ultimately inconsequential. As you will soon see, Merope would not use magic even to preserve her very life.”

“She wouldn’t even stay alive for her son?” Harry felt his lip curling in contempt.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?” 

Harry shook his head vigorously. “Not for Voldemort, no, but perhaps for an orphan boy named Tom, yes, I can feel sorry for him. It’s not easy to grow up without a mother or father.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Tom had a very rough life. He was born at the orphanage, and Merope died shortly thereafter, leaving him with only a name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He grew up there and was never adopted. I went to find him when he turned eleven to invite him to Hogwarts. We are going to see the first time I ever met the boy who would grow up to terrorize a generation.”

* * *

 

As Potter ascended to the headmaster’s office, the observer was exceptionally curious. What was going on? This was now two unusual meetings. Potter was the Duelling Captain and apparently outranked the Head Boy and Girl. Could it be related to the club somehow?

Could it be special training? Was the old man teaching Potter advanced magic? Magic that Potter could then disseminate to the rest of the students? He was already teaching some pretty advanced concepts of how magic and spells could truly synchronize. Duelling was all about the flow. Dumbledore could flow like no other. Potter was quite good as well, and many of the students were starting to catch onto the concept. If this kept up, the Death Eaters would have stiff opposition.

The observer needed to get an ear into that office. The risk was very high, so it would have to be perfect.

 


	18. Frank and Alice

**** Neville Longbottom had been having a very interesting life.

Growing up in the Longbottom household hadn’t been easy. His parents had been attacked by the Lestrange family and tortured for hours shortly after the fall of Voldemort. They were still alive but lost to the world and lived full-time in the permanent spell damage ward at St. Mungo’s. Neville had been all of a year and a half old when it happened. He had been raised by his paternal grandmother, Augusta Longbottom née Goodwinter. She was a stern witch, his Gran. She was always very tightly-wound, in his eyes. She loved him, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help but feel he disappointed her in many ways.

It had all started when he never displayed any sign of being magical. He never did accidental magic like other wizard children. Around the age of five, Gran had started wondering if he was a Squib. She naturally shared her worries with the rest of the family, and the whole subject somehow became everyone’s business.

Neville didn’t really have a father figure as such. Gran’s brother, Great-Uncle Algie, had visited often and had tried to pass on manly wisdom to him. Algie had tried to toughen him up, had tried to get his magic to manifest. Neville hadn’t been much inclined to listen to the advice of a man who kept trying to kill or injure him. Ever since the incident at Blackpool pier, he still wasn’t really comfortable with putting his head under water, though the prefect’s bath was very nice indeed. Algie had ultimately been the one to prove the truth, something that he never let Neville forget. He’d been dangling Neville by his feet out the window when Great-Aunt Enid had been offered him some lemon meringue. He had let go, Neville had bounced, and Algie had taken all the credit.

All Neville had to look up to was an ideal of his father that Gran projected. She often made him feel as though he wasn’t good enough, that his father would have done it better, had done it better, or didn’t need to do it at all. Neville felt that was distinctly unfair, because he didn’t know his father. He had no way of knowing what would have been expected of him.

Maybe things would have been different if his parents were able to raise him, but it was just him and Gran. She had really become somewhat of a recluse after Grandfather died. Neville had a few happy memories of the time before Grandfather had gotten sick. Dragon pox at his age hadn’t taken very long to carry him off. Neville had been there when he’d died. It had changed him, seeing death at such a young age. Aided by Gran’s reluctance to venture out of the house, he withdrew and became shy.

There were other family, of course, but Neville didn’t spend much time with them. The only memory Neville had of Grandfather’s brother, Great-Uncle Harfang, was at the funeral when he and Great-Aunt Callidora had offered their sympathies with breath so wheezy that he could hardly hear them. Neither of their two children had been able to attend, a scandal that was talked about for months.

Then there was the other side of his family.

Alice Longbottom had been a Prewett. Her entire family had been wiped out in the first war. She was cousin to the war heroes Gideon and Fabian Prewett. They were all the same age, had attended Hogwarts together, had joined the Order of the Phoenix together. Their older sister was named Molly and was the mother of one of his classmates, Ron Weasley. Ron had always been casual about their familial relationship, so Neville hadn’t made a big deal out of it. He didn’t really understand how the boy could not be more informed about his uncles’ deeds. Ron cared nothing for history.

Frank and Alice Longbottom had been Aurors, the only husband and wife team in the history of the Corps. Gran had often been stopped in a shop or on the street by an Auror or someone else who had known them simply to say hello and pay respects. It had always made Neville feel good to hear people say nice things about his parents.

Professor Moody had pulled him aside after the first lesson in fourth year. They had learned about the Cruciatus Curse, and Neville had been morbidly fascinated with the spider as it twitched and writhed on the desk. Many times he’d imagined what had happened that horrible night, but the reality was far worse than his most fevered imaginings. He had been shaking by the end of the lecture, and Moody had asked him to stay behind.

“Frank and Alice were friends of mine,” he’d growled. “I didn’t train them, but I worked with them. Damned good Aurors. Damned good people.”

“Thank you, sir,” Neville had said, startled.

“Sorry to shake you up like that, but you’ve got to know what it’s like. You’ve got to know what the Dark will do. It wasn’t just Voldemort. His followers are all as depraved as he is. Your parents dropped their guard. Once he was gone, they got sloppy. They let themselves get taken by his Inner Circle. Constant vigilance!”

“Con-constant vigilance, sir.”

Moody had been a superb teacher. He had given them a watered-down version of the Auror curriculum. They had memorized counter-curses, they had worked on casting speed, and they had studied why some wizards and witches chose to use their skills to gain Dark power. Neville had paid rapt attention to Moody’s lessons. He wanted to follow his parents into the Corps.

Fifth year was when things accelerated. Neville had been named a prefect, which he’d never expected. He didn’t know who he’d expected it to be, but certainly not him. He hadn’t thought about it at all, really. The shock of finding the red and gold badge in his Hogwarts letter had been profound. Gran had been ecstatic, proud that he was following in Frank’s footsteps.

Gran had urged him to join the Ministry Youth too. “Frank would have joined. He would have been the first to take a chance to be able to improve his skills. He was already very good, but he knew you could always get better. He practiced all the time, he did.” So Neville had joined, and he had seized the chance to improve his spell-casting. He had indeed gotten better, stronger, faster.

He kept a picture of Bellatrix Lestrange, one he’d clipped from the Daily Prophet. Every time he failed to grasp a spell or brew a potion, he would take it out and stare at it. Her eyes were void of compassion, empathy, or humanity. He gazed into that abyss and knew that he needed to be better if he was going to kill her.

This summer he’d bought a new wand, a wand suited to him. Within minutes of buying it, he’d had to use it in combat against the Death Eaters as they kidnapped Mr. Ollivander. He could still barely believe what had happened that day. He also knew that he would never forget the pride he saw in Gran’s eyes when she saw his name in the newspaper.

She put down the paper and reached for her cup of tea. “Neville, why didn’t you tell me?”

He glanced at the headline, guessed the contents, and began to get hot under the collar. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

She sighed. “I’m always going to worry about you. That’s my job.” She paused and took a sip of tea. “You really took on Death Eaters?”

Neville looked up at the strange tone in her voice. He had seldom seen the expression now on her face. “I did. Harry and I did, and Mister Black.”

“And you captured two of them?”

He considered it. “I guess we did.”

“Oh, Neville.” She leaned over and embraced him. “Frank and Alice would be so proud of you.”

Neville closed his eyes to hide the tears that suddenly threatened to overflow. So often it was how disappointed his parents would have been with his behaviour.

“I hope so.”

“I told you you had it in you to be an Auror. I just knew it. Oh, Neville, your gran is proud of you.”

The tears streamed down his face. Neville had yearned to hear those words for years. It had started during fifth year when he’d made prefect. Now he was catching Dark wizards and the new term hadn’t even started yet.

“What I don’t understand is what you were doing there in the first place. What did you need in Diagon Alley?”

As he composed himself, Neville figured he might as well take advantage of her current good mood. “Gran, I went to get a new wand, one suited to me. I didn’t use Dad’s wand in that fight. I want to honour him, but I can’t reach my full potential with his wand. I want to put it on display, next to Mum’s. I’m my own wizard, Gran. I need my own wand, and I know it’s already helped.”

It hurt her, he could see that, but she shook her head and smiled at him. “You are a fine wizard, Neville Longbottom. If Frank were still with us, you would need your own wand anyway. So be it.”

His parents’ wands had gone into a display case with their wedding photo and their Order of Merlin medals, First Class, awarded  _ in absentia _ . He meditated on it for a few minutes every night and every morning, holding one of the gum wrappers his mother often gave him when he visited her. He wanted to be a son they would be proud of, even if they might never know him.

His skills had taken a meteoric rise and showed no sign of slowing down. He could do non-verbal magic now! Neville, who’d once worried about not being magic enough to come to Hogwarts, was now casting magic silently. His confidence was soaring, which reinforced his skills. It was a wonderful positive cycle.

He’d been invited to join Professor Slughorn’s little social club, and the company in that group was distinguished indeed. The first meeting on the train had been surreal. They’d never had any teacher quite like Slughorn, who was obviously playing favourites. Snape favoured Slytherins, but the Slug Club was on a whole other level. There had been other meetings through the term, and he’d actually enjoyed himself quite a bit. Melinda Bobbin was quite a delightful witch in many regards. She shared an interest in Herbology, because of her family’s business. She was much better than him at Potions, but she’d teasingly cautioned him that there could be no private tutoring. It was regrettable, for he might have fancied her.

Neville was slowly coming to terms with the idea that he hadn’t been included by accident. Now Professor Slughorn had invited him to a private tea. Neville didn’t know if anyone else would be attending, so he’d made himself look neat. He wore a collared shirt and a tie, an open robe, crisply pressed trousers, and a freshly polished pair of shoes. He ran a handful of styling gel through his hair. It being of the magical variety, he instantly looked his best.

He knocked firmly on the door. A few moments later it opened, and the Potions Master ushered him inside.

“Ah, Neville. Do come in. Hang your cloak up. Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you, sir.” Neville wasn’t wearing a cloak.

Slughorn settled his great bulk into his sturdy chair and picked up the teapot. “You simply must have one of these delightful pastries, my boy,” he said as he poured the tea. “They’re from Emmett Eyelop, one of the best chefs in the world.”

“Eyelop as in the owl breeding family?”

“Yes, but a different branch. Several generations back, Oleander Eyelop had a great many sons, too many for them all to inherit a part of the family business. It wasn’t possible to grow the business enough for all of them either. He decided that his first three sons would inherit, and the other sons would have to find a new direction. Delvin Eyelop discovered a love of food and became a restaurateur. Delvin’s now has three locations in Great Britain. His heirs have done very well for themselves.”

Neville took one pastry. Slughorn took seven. Neville took a tiny nibble and found his eyes rolling back in his head with sheer bliss.

“Magnificent, are they not?”

“Amazing, sir.”

When they were all settled, Slughorn’s jollity suddenly dampened.

“I would like, first of all, to pay my sincerest respects on the loss of your parents. I know it is not easy. I am proud to have taught them. The world is made darker by their absence.”

Neville was quite proud to be their son. “That’s very kind of you, sir.”

“I remember the day your mother was sorted clear as can be. Alice Prewett and her cousins, Fabian and Gideon,” Slughorn said with a fond sigh. “Such wonderful people. The brothers were born only nine months apart, so, though they’re not twins, they were in the same yeargroup.” He chuckled. “It was quite the thing, three children with the same surname in one year. They were all in Gryffindor, where your father had already been sorted. They met Frank and formed the most amazing friendship. The four of them went everywhere together. The brothers realized Frank and Alice were in love long before they ever did.”

“I’ve heard about the Prewett brothers. Gran told me they were heroes.” _ I didn’t know a lot of the details. _

Slughorn nodded slowly. “Just so, my boy. Just so. Did she tell you the story?”

Neville shook his head. Gran had told him only that they’d died badly. He had to ask Great-Uncle Algie what dying badly meant. Algie had responded, “Cruciatus for hours followed by a slow death. It was messy. That’s all you need know.”

Slughorn gave a great sigh. “It isn’t a particularly pleasant story. Like so many actions in those days, it was in retaliation for a retaliation. The Death Eaters had just wiped out a major part of the McKinnon family a few weeks before. Marlene McKinnon was Gideon’s girlfriend, and he took it hard. They had made a successful raid against a Death Eater hideout, hit them hard and taken out many, but Antonin Dolohov and four others had tracked them to a Muggle pub where they were downing a few pints. The Death Eaters came in through the back and Imperiused the kitchen staff. They spiked the brothers’ drinks with a Paralyzing Potion. When the Potion took effect, the Death Eaters took them into the back where they were tortured.” He paused, glancing at Neville. “They used Cruciatus for hours, until the brothers had been driven to the brink of insanity.”

Neville’s jaw clenched. How many of his family had endured that evil curse?

Slughorn’s voice was filled with loathing as he continued the tale. “By that point, they were easy prey for the Imperius Curse. Since they were in a Muggle kitchen, the Death Eaters found the biggest knives and commanded the brothers to fight each other in the Muggle fashion. They could not resist. Dolohov cast a protective spell on the absolutely vital areas so that there would be no accidental or intentional early end to their entertainment. They wanted to see lots of blood.”

Neville realized his hands were curled into fists.

“Well, they got their wish. Eventually Dolohov removed his shield from them and ordered them to try to kill each other.”

Neville didn’t want to listen anymore. “How do you know all this, sir?”

“The Aurors came looking for them when they didn’t report for duty. They managed to capture Dolohov and the others, but they were too late to save Gideon and Fabian. While the battle was going on, they’d continued to fight each other. They were found with their knives in each other’s chest. Dolohov was quite proud of what he’d done. Bragged about it, even.”

“That’s sick,” Neville croaked through a suddenly dry throat. He took a sip of tea.

“Extremely. Frank, Alice, Gideon, and Fabian all fought against the Dark Lord. They all sacrificed everything. Four bright lights, snuffed out by madness.” Slughorn shook his head, trying to clear the melancholy. “What is your relationship to Julius Longbottom?”

Neville wanted to change the subject too. “I’m not familiar with that name, sir.”

“Ah, Julius was an old schoolmate of mine. He was a Hufflepuff, and damned proud of it. We got along famously.”

“I don’t know if we’ve ever had a Hufflepuff in the family.”

“No, I never taught a Longbottom in Hufflepuff, I can say, though I reckon I’ve taught most of your family. I taught your gran.”

“Yes, sir. She told me to pay close attention in your class.”  _ Of course she says that about all my classes, so I’m not sure that counts. _

Slughorn ate another pastry before continuing, “She was always good at Potions and Transfiguration. Not so good at Charms, I’m afraid. She failed to achieve OWL. It shut her out of many career choices.”

Neville, who had been reaching for his teacup, dropped it against the saucer with a clatter of fine china.  _ At least it didn’t break like that one in Divination that time. _ “I never knew that!”

Slughorn looked pleased to have revealed something to him. “No, I’m sure she wouldn’t mention it.” He threw out another tidbit. “Did you know she was best friends with Professor McGonagall?”

“No!” Neville was thunderstruck.

“Fast as thieves!” Slughorn chortled, delighting in Neville’s reaction. “They were always together, it seems. They were the best in their house with Transfiguration. They started the Transfiguration club, actually.”

“Yeah, she’s always had good things to say about Professor McGonagall.” Quite a lot of it made much more sense now.

“Oh, the mischief they used to get into.” He poured more tea. “I daresay she wouldn’t appreciate me telling you about it. I’d better stop.”

Neville wanted to know more. “Did she ever get detention?”

Slughorn sipped his tea. “Several times.”

“What for?” His own tea was forgotten.

The professor considered the matter for several agonizing moments. “Magic in the hallways. Fighting. She’s always had a bit of a temper, Augusta.”

Neville ruefully said, “Yeah, you can say that again. She sent me a Howler once.”

“A Howler?” Slughorn sputtered. “My goodness, dear boy, whatever did you do?”

“We’d gathered at Great-Uncle Harfang and Great-Aunt Callidora’s house to celebrate Hector Longbottom’s two hundredth death day. They had set up some candles, and I set fire to the portrait room.”

Slughorn was astounded. “What?”

Neville grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. I was carrying a sample of a plant I’d found while exploring outside the garden wall. Well, as near as we were able to figure out, that plant gave off a flammable gas that eventually reached the candles. After that, things happened more or less explosively.”

Slughorn stared at him. “Were any of the portraits destroyed?”

“A few. There are multiple copies of them in several branches of the family, but they’re still very valuable. Poor Hector was lost though. He wasn’t able to flee fast enough. Gran was furious with me. She was always telling me not to bring strange plants into the house. I guess that was why.”

Slughorn shook his head, putting another pastry on Neville’s plate. “That’s quite a story, my boy. Hard to believe you still like plants after an incident like that.”

“Actually, it made me more determined to learn about plants. I never wanted to make a mistake like that again.”

“Yes, that does make sense.”

Neville changed the subject. “What was my dad like? Did he like plants or potions?”

“He wasn’t the best Potions student, to Augusta’s dismay. He was competent enough, but he was unimaginative. He didn’t have a feel for potionmaking. He scraped the absolute limit of the NEWT, but he made it. One more question wrong would have flipped it, and his practical was only barely of sufficient strength.”

Neville had never heard about this side of his father. Gran had only sung his praises.

Slughorn continued. “Frank was similarly disinclined towards Herbology. He didn’t really like getting dirty. He much preferred the elegance of Defence. He was quite good at Transfiguration as well as Charms, and those three strengths made him a very dangerous duelist. He could often be found in far corners of the castle working on his technique with Alice, Gideon, and Fabian. The four of them were practically a Duelling Club of their own.”

Neville ate another pastry. He was too focused on Slughorn’s words to notice how delicious it was.

“Alice was a delight to have in class. She earned excellent marks. She usually had a smile for everyone, and if she didn’t, something was seriously wrong. She was never one to wear her heart on her sleeve. Cool as a cucumber under pressure. She never broke a sweat for any exam. Other students would work themselves into a fever pitch, but she always turned her papers in early. She did her homework the night it was assigned so as to have free time later.”

The people who could tell Neville stories about his mother were few and far between.

“She excelled at Charms, something that never endeared her to your gran, I’m afraid. She was also superb at Potions and Transfiguration, and there was never a curse to which she didn’t know the counter. She was also a very skilled duellist. She would stalk her opponents, positioning them where she wanted them before unleashing some ostentatious method of incapacitating them. She caught Franco Magar with a giant stone fist that erupted from the wall.”

“Every Auror from those days I’ve ever talked to had nothing but respect for them,” Neville remembered.

“With good reason.”

“Yes, sir.” There was a bit of a pause, as Slughorn was inhaling another pastry. “Gran told me they began dating in fifth year,” Neville said, lifting his voice at the end to make it more of a question.

“They finally realized that they were very much in love. They went steady and actually married in their seventh year. It was over the Easter holiday. They came back with wedding rings on. They were both slated to go into the Auror program and knew they would have no time for anything else, so they moved up their timetable. It was quite the situation for the staff to deal with, let me tell you. It has been many years since a married couple attended as students. Hogwarts always provides for those in need. There is another dormitory aside from the four houses and the staff wing that is reserved for married students. We learned about it only by reading Hogwarts: A History. The castle elves opened it up and made it livable again.”

“That’s very interesting, sir.”

“Speaking of love and marriage, do you have a lady friend? I’ve seen several witches eyeing you over. Did you attend the Yule Ball two years ago?”

Neville blushed. “Yeah, I escorted Amy Geagan. She’s not in Potions this year, so you might not know her.”

“Did anything ever come of that?”

“No, it was just as friends. I was so nervous I almost couldn’t ask her, but when she smiled and said yes I felt pretty suave.”

“What about last year?”

“Chrissy Golding a couple of times, but there was not a lot of time to date. I was juggling prefect duties and OWL classes and the Duelling Club.”

Slughorn nodded and sipped at his tea. “Yes, I’ve heard a lot about it. This year’s workload is a bit lighter, relatively speaking. You have time to have a social life again. Has any pretty little witch caught your fancy yet?”

“Yeah, there’s someone I’m interested in at the moment.”  _ Several someones. _ “The whole thing is rather complicated.”

Slughorn laughed, setting his great belly jiggling. “Women are all complicated, my boy, every single one, and all in different ways. There is no good advice other than to be honest and faithful. Beyond that, we would need to invent a potion to increase patience.”

Neville thought that sounded quite smart. He ate another pastry. They really were as good as the professor claimed. By the time Neville left Slughorn’s office two hours later, he had consumed so much sugar that he felt twitchy.

It was still a couple of hours until curfew, so he headed up to the Room of Requirement. There was always time for some training, he thought, as he paced back and forth in front of the blank wall.

In the Order’s training room, he found Theo Nott and Lucas Slater. The two Slytherins seemed to spend all of their non-school time here. This was not the first time he’d found them here.

They were currently in the middle of a duel, and Slater was losing. Neville hung back and waited for them to finish.

A few moments later, Slater lost. Without missing a beat, Nott turned his wand against Neville.

Neville dodged three spells, managing to finally draw his wand. He fired back with a non-verbal Stunner.

The duel ended in a double loss. Neville’s vines disarmed Nott, but Nott’s spell had stuck Neville against the wall and knocked his wand out of his hand.

By this point, Slater had freed himself. “You’re both beaten.”

“Never!” Nott said, still trying to reclaim his wand from the vines. Despite Neville losing hold of his wand, the vines continued to harass him.

“Good show, though.”

“Thanks, Slater. Can you get me down, please?”

Slater quickly freed Neville, who cancelled his magical vines.

“What was all that about, Nott?” Neville asked.

“Constant vigilance.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Plus I wanted to keep going right into the next fight. That’s how it will be in combat, with lots of people fighting.”

“That makes a certain amount of sense, I suppose.”

“Shall we go again?”

“My turn,” Slater said. ”Come on, Neville.”

Slater was a tenacious, scrappy dueller. He bobbed and weaved so much that it was almost impossible to land a hit on him, and those few that did were absorbed by his shield.

Neville was forced to resort to more advanced magic. He tossed a pinch of sand in the air and multiplied it again and again. He sent a sandstorm at Slater, hoping to suck the boy up into the air.

Slater responded by Sticky Charming his feet to the floor. Unfortunately, the charm applied only to his shoes, and the laces were loose. Slater was pulled out of his shoes and went tumbling through the air. His wand clattered to the floor.

Nott attacked him again as soon as Slater lost his wand. Neville was expecting it this time and had a hex ready for him.

They went back and forth until they could barely stand. Sweat dripped off them. Their uniforms were soaked, and they’d removed their robes ages ago.

“Good show, Longbottom,” Nott said. There was a note of respect in his voice that Neville had never heard before.

“Thanks,” Neville said, feeling a little surreal. Slytherins being nice to him still wasn’t entirely normal. “You too.”

Neville grabbed his cloak and hurried down to Gryffindor Tower. He couldn’t wait to hit the shower. He supposed he could have gone to the prefects’ bathroom, but he wanted to get into bed as soon as possible. His arms wouldn’t be much up for swimming anyway.

He gave the fat lady the password and stepped into the common room, where he encountered an argument between Ron and Dean.

“All I’m saying,” Ron was saying, “is that a bloke doesn’t go after his mate’s ex-girl without asking first.”

“I don’t need your bloody permission to ask Chrissy out!” Dean yelled. “You two had a handful of dates and were never very serious. That’s not just her story, either. I was there to see it all. Remember? You used to laugh about kissing her. You didn’t freak out when Neville went out with her.”

“Neville told me about it beforehand,” Ron shot back.

“I may have mentioned it to you,” Neville interjected, “but I certainly never asked your permission.”

Ron turned to face him. “We were sitting at breakfast. Not many people had yet come up, and you said, ‘I’m thinking about asking Chrissy to go to Hogsmeade with me.’ I replied, ‘Go for it, mate.’”

“You stupid runt, I was making conversation! You thought I was seeking your approval?” Neville started to laugh. “That’s too funny, Weasley!”

Ron began to turn red. He absolutely hated to be laughed at.

“See?” Dean said triumphantly. “You’re bonkers, Ron. I am going to ask out Chrissy.” He turned to the room. “Now that everyone knows, anyone know where she is?”

“She’s in the library!”

“No, the owlery!”

“No, the hospital wing!”

With all of these helpful suggestions, Dean made to leave the common room, but Neville held up a hand to stop him.

“It’s curfew. I can’t let you go.”

“I’ve got to find Chrissy, mate. I’ve got to get to her before someone else decides to snap her up.”

“She’s probably in the dorm if she’s not down here.”

“Right.” Dean made for the girls’ stairway.

Neville smiled, because he knew what was coming.

A highly indignant Dean was deposited in a heap at the foot of the slide.

“Will someone please go get Chrissy and ask her to meet me?”

* * *

 

Ron threw himself into a couch by the fire, ignoring the small first year he almost squished.

Romilda Vane came over to him. “Hello, Ronald.”

“Hi, Romilda.”

“I just want you to know that I think you’re completely correct.”

Ron blinked owlishly at her. “You do?”

“You don’t want them to ask for permission, just to give a kind notification of intention. It’s courtesy. I understand.”

Ron’s bad mood had completely disappeared. “Well, thank you.”

She beamed at him. “You’re very welcome.”

“Would you like to join me?” he asked suddenly. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he wanted her to stick around.

“I would. Thank you.” She sat next to him.

“So, Romilda -”

“You may call me Romy. I’d like that.” She smiled at him again.

He smiled back. “Okay. You can call me Ron.”

Without hesitation, she shook her head. “I prefer Ronald. It sounds more mature, more manly.”

He couldn’t help but perk up a bit at that comment. “As you like.”

“You’re not still interested in Chrissy, are you?”

“Never much was, really,” he admitted.

“Is there someone else?”

“Naw,” he said, turning a bit red. “Nobody.”

She smiled again. “So that argument with Dean aside, how are you, Ronald? How are things?”

“I’m okay, I guess. Classes are a drag. I have a ton of homework I need to do.”

“What is your best subject?”

“Probably Defence.”

“Would you be willing to tutor me? I’m having ever such a difficult time with Professor Snape.”

“Snape,” Ron muttered. “That greasy git hates all Gryffindors. Even being the perfect student won’t let you pass  _ his _ class. And it may be my best subject, but I’m nowhere near the best student.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said with obvious disappointment. “Who is?”

“Potter,” Weasley said distastefully.

“Really?” Romy perked up. “Do you think you could ask him if he’d be willing to tutor me?”

“You want me to ask Potter for a favour?”

“Well, you are friends with him, aren’t you? It’s not really a favour to you, it’s a favour to me. You’re the one who knows him and can approach him with the request. I’d be very grateful.”

Ron was not quick on the uptake when it concerned girls, but even he could see Romy was coming on to him. Still, he couldn’t let her keep on thinking he and Potter were great pals. He opened his mouth to tell her so and instead heard, “I’ll see what I can do,” coming out.

Romy squealed with delight. “Thank you, Ronald! You are the best.”

Ron tried not to blush again. “Romy, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?”

“I would like that very much, Ronald.”

 


	19. Lord Dumpling

“Have a seat,” Dumbledore offered, as they landed back in the headmaster’s office.

Harry was still reeling from what he’d seen in the pensieve. “He didn’t seem surprised to find out he was magical. I had no idea what was going on with the letters, but even then I thought Hagrid must have been mad to be going on about magic. Then he did some. Tom didn’t need proof."

“Quite right, Harry. Tom already seemed to know he was, as he put it, ‘special’, and my visit only confirmed it.”

“Did you have any idea? Then?” Perhaps it was only with hindsight that the young Tom seemed so strange.

“I truly had no inkling that I had just invited the Darkest wizard in modern history to attend my school. He did not seem overly dangerous, merely boyish in unflattering aspects. He was a fascinating case, and I resolved to look after for him when he arrived at school. I should have been ready to do that anyway, for I knew he had no friends and was a lonely boy. 

“You heard from his own mouth the powers he possessed even at this early age. He had performed a variety of accidental magic and -- strikingly and most portentous of all -- he had managed to exercise a level of command over his abilities and begun to use them at will. You noted, I am sure, that he engaged in no juvenile activities. He used his magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive…‘I can make them hurt if I want to…’” 

“And he was a Parselmouth,” interjected Harry. “He could terrorize them with a snake.”  _ That’s what everyone thought I did to Finch-Fletchley in second year. _

“Yes, Parseltongue. Though often associated with the Dark Arts, enlightened and educated individuals know that there are many snake talkers who served the light. No, Tom’s serpent speech did not concern me nearly so much as his penchant for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.”

Harry nodded and glanced at his watch. “Sir?”

“Yes, the hour grows late.” He nodded toward the window, where the darkened sky was seen beyond. “But we must have discussion on a few certain points before we part tonight, while the details are still fresh in our minds. I believe these features will be of great import to our future discussions. 

“What was Tom’s reaction when he learned that he had been named for another?”

“Contempt.”

“Correct. He had contempt for anything that connected him with another person, for anything that diminished his uniqueness. In the matter of his name, he desired distinction. He left that old name behind within several years of that revelation and constructed the identity of Voldemort, which he has pretended to for so many years.”

“Merope didn’t even know Tom is a nickname, did she?”

“No, Harry,” Dumbledore said, a trace of sadness in his voice, “I don’t believe she did.”

“He should have been Thomas,” Harry said, actually cracking a smile. “That would have mucked up his little anagram.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed, “he would have had to account for an H, an A, and an S.”

“A S H. Ash. He could have called himself Lord Ash Voldemort.”

Dumbledore was smiling now too, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. “Well done, Harry.”

“Ash.” Harry chuckled. “I don’t know if I can take him seriously now. Next time I see him, I’m probably going to start laughing at him.”

“He would most certainly hate that. Tom hates to be laughed at.”

“Maybe the power he knows not is humour.”

“If only there were a killer joke,” Dumbledore said wistfully. “No, I am convinced that it is love. Your mother didn’t shield you with laughter. Of love, of connexion to others, I believe he knows nothing. Which brings me to my next point. Did you notice how he refused all assistance while shopping for his school supplies? He achieved it without incident. He was, as they say, a ‘lone operator’. He relied only upon himself. As he was as a child, so he remains as an adult. He never found a reason to trust others, and so he does not. Many Death Eaters claim his confidence, that they are close to him, even that they know his mind. They are deluded. Tom Riddle has never had even one friend, nor, in my opinion, has he ever wanted one.”

“Even the Inner Circle? The Lestranges?”

“Even them. He gives them titles to make them feel important so as to better do his bidding. Lastly, he enjoyed taking prizes, souvenirs of his victories. That box was full of his things he had taken from the other children, reminders of nasty bits of magic he had used on them. Remember this trait, this habit of collecting, Harry, for I believe it to be of vital importance.” Dumbledore looked out the window again. “But now, I really must allow you to leave. Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, sir.”

He began the long walk down to the Slytherin common room and mused on what he’d learned tonight. Harry now found it hard to feel sorry for the boy in the orphanage. Yes, as the memory in the diary had said, their lives were very similar, but it all came down to choices. Tom had chosen to fight back against his tormentors. Harry had chosen to run and escape. Tom had chosen to become a bully and take revenge. Harry had chosen to be content with correcting the situation. The only person Harry wanted revenge on was Tom.

Tom was a bully from an early age. He had hated the bullies who picked on him, and when he’d discovered his magic, he had used it to hurt them and take their place. Now he was the one who the others feared.

Harry was nothing like that. Sure, he had a bit of a schoolboy problem with Weasley, but Harry wasn’t roughing up younger students for their lunch money.

He was just passing the turn towards the Potions lab when a hooded figure stepped out and gestured for him. He followed into a storage room filled with cauldrons.

Tori pulled her hood back. Her blonde hair was a mess, and she hurriedly set to fixing it.

“Hey, Harry.”

He was getting more used to Tori’s cloak and dagger antics. She was always able to catch him alone. Her information never took more than a minute to convey, but she was always correct.

“Hey, Tori.”

“Zabini tried to follow us last night. He didn’t see anything, but he got up to the fifth floor before he lost us.”

Harry frowned. The last thing he needed was for Zabini to cotton on to the existence of the Order of the Basilisk. They didn’t have anyone handy who could do a Memory Charm.

“Thanks, Tori.”

“Not a problem.”

“Better get back," he advised her. "It’s almost curfew.”

“So it is.” She disappeared into the shadows again.

* * *

 

It was quite the shock when Harry asked Tracy to be his girlfriend again. It happened after the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Quidditch match, the week after Slytherin beat Gryffindor.

Harry had never liked Ravenclaw’s captain, Cho Chang. She was extremely pretty, which might have been enough to tie his tongue, but he’d overheard her talking enough during mealtimes to know that he really didn’t want anything to do with her. She was a decent Seeker, even if she did get fooled by stray flashes of light. She and Cedric Diggory had dated for a couple of years now. They’d gone to the Yule Ball together. Diggory had finished school and gone to work at the Ministry with his father Amos. There was talk of marriage.

Susan Bones led her team to victory, and Harry cheered her on all the way. She had made the Hufflepuff team in fifth year as a Chaser. Now she was also Captain, despite the two Beaters being seventh year students. She couldn’t quite seem to believe it as her team lifted her up on their shoulders and carried her back to the changing room. There was sure to be a big party in Hufflepuff that night.

“I’m going to congratulate Susan,” Harry said, spur-of-the-moment.

Millie said, “That’s sporting, Harry. Give her my best.”

“Will do.”

“I’ll go with you, Harry,” Tracy volunteered. “I need to talk to Susan about some class stuff anyway.”

“She’s not going to want to think about school,” Millie objected. “I know I wouldn’t, if I’d just won a match.”

“I just want to set a time to meet with her.”

“She won’t remember.”

“Well, that’s not my fault.”

“She’ll remember,” Harry said. “Susan’s not a flake.”

Harry and Tracy headed for the entrance of the changing rooms. Each house had a designated entrance. The corridor came to a T intersection; boys went left, girls went right. The corridor had a corner, and one came to the changing booths with heavy curtains. There were fifteen lockers that would not have been out of place in a Muggle school. A side door led to the showers. Continuing through brought one out to the team meeting area. Here they could review plays and hear the captain’s motivational speech.

As they waited, Harry couldn’t help but notice how much nicer Tracy’s blonde hair looked in the sunshine. The day was warm for November, and she’d foregone a heavy cloak.

She caught him watching her, and she smiled warmly at him. He responded without thinking, his own smile broad. Their eyes met, and hers contained an unasked question. Slowly their faces moved closer together. Memories assaulted Harry; of Tracy, of Laine. His guilt and grief swirled around with the love he no longer wanted to deny. He pulled her to him, kissing her desperately, spilling his soul without words.

Her arms encircled him, drawing him in. She pressed against him as though to merge their very beings. She kissed him back just as eagerly.

Tears began to roll down his cheeks. She felt the wetness and pulled back just slightly. Harry couldn’t help himself from crying. All of his emotions had boiled over. He cried from anguish, from shame, from comfort, and from joy. She held him, and he hid his face in her shoulder.

When he had no more tears, he looked up at her again. She smiled gently at him. “Feel better?”

“Much.” His head was clearer now. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They fell silent for a few moments.

“I’m sorry,” he started to say.

Tracy put a finger to his lips. “You’re still hurting from Laine. I know this. You need closure. You’re being pulled a thousand different ways. That’s why I let you kiss me. You needed to.”

“You didn’t enjoy it?”

She looked away. “Whether I enjoyed it or not is entirely irrelevant. You needed me, and I’m here for you.”

Now he felt like a heel. “I’m not trying to use you, Tracy.”

She took his hand. “I know the hurt you’re in from losing Laine is inconceivable. Being with any girl would feel like a betrayal of her memory.” She leaned down and looked into his eyes. “You still have feelings for me. You said it yourself, I’m your first. Since we happened before Laine, you feel you can come back to me without it being a betrayal. It’s a regression, rather than moving on. I understand all of this, and I am willing to be there for you in this way.”

Hearing Tracy lay it out so analytically wasn’t exactly making Harry feel better about his behaviour. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Tracy squeezed his hand. “From the first night I slipped into your bed, I knew that I was offering myself completely. Whatever I can do to help you through this trauma, I am willing to do.”

The depth of devotion humbled Harry. She did not say it, but she loved him. He could see it plainer than day. He loved her still, and in that moment he knew it.

“Tracy, I want us to try again.”

She gave him a sceptical look. “That’s the high emotion talking.”

“I think you do too.”  _ I hope you do. _

She squeezed his hand again. “I do, but I’m not sure you’re ready. You’re still working out your grief.”

There really was no denying that statement. “I suppose I am. I know what I feel though.”

She traced little patterns on the back of his hand with her thumb. “Well, if it’s for real, it’ll keep just fine.”

_ I wish she would look at me.  _ “I want to be your boyfriend. Not because I miss Laine, but because I care for you more than I can put into words. You’ve been a brick through all of this.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Harry.”

“It’s not because I think I owe you something.”

“Then why?”

Harry clutched his hands to the sides of his head in sheer frustration. No matter what he said, it was taken the wrong way. The smarter thing to do would be to stop talking, but he could get in trouble for that as well.

“Because I love you,” he blurted.

His confession shocked her. “You love me,” she repeated, making it a question with her inflection.

“I love you. I want to be with you. I want to snog you. I want to introduce you to my family. I want to have dinner with your parents and meet the rest of your family.”

She shook her head. “Now I  _ know _ you’re not thinking straight.”

“Can I take you to Slughorn’s Christmas party at least?”

She considered it for a moment before shaking her head. “No.”

“But Tracy-”

“You’re already going with Pansy, and I know what she does to people who cross her. I have no desire to experience that again.”

“I won’t let her.”

Tracy gave him a bemused smile. “You’re cute, Harry. Not too bright sometimes, but cute.”

“I mean it.”  _ Why do girls play these stupid games? _

“I know you do. That’s why it’s cute. You can’t stop Pansy. Nobody can. It’s best to just stay out of her way. She wants to be first at everything. I say let her.”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “Let’s see what happens in the new year.”

“That I will agree to.”

They were spared any awkwardness by the Hufflepuff team exiting the changing room.

Susan looked a bit surprised to see them there. “Hey, Harry. Hey, Tracy.”

“Congratulations on your first victory, Captain,” Harry said formally.

She broke into an ecstatic grin. “Thanks! I’m so completely over the moon. I still can’t really believe it.”

Harry was feeling generous. “Hufflepuff can have the night off from Duelling Club.”

“You did great, your team did great, and you deserve to celebrate,” Tracy said. “We just wanted to tell you so.”

“Thanks, guys!”

Susan was swept away by her team.

Harry looked askance at Tracy. “What about the schoolwork?”

“What schoolwork?”

Harry was not the only person to ask out Tracy. Despite her good looks, she put off an air that discouraged boys from approaching her. He’d even heard of a few boys referring to her as ‘Ice Queen’.

That reputation didn’t seem to bother Zabini, who sat down next to her at dinner a few days later. “Tracy, would you like to go to Slughorn’s party with me?”

Her reaction was much different. “Drop dead, Zabini.”

He blinked several times. “Wow, that was really uncalled for.” He seemed to realize that any persistence would not be fruitful and turned to Daphne. “How about it? A night of dancing and socializing with all of old Sluggy’s friends?”

She tried not to laugh and failed. “Get crucial. Not interested at all.”

Zabini was not deterred. “Pansy?”

“Already going with Harry,” she said, feigning disappointment. Then she smirked viciously, “but the answer would still be, ‘No.’”

“I cannot catch a break today,” Zabini complained. “Millie, how about you?”

“As you may recall, I’m dating a world-famous Quidditch star.”

Zabini decided to try his luck with the younger set. “Ginny, it’ll be a lot of fun.”

“And since I’m invited, I get to experience it all without you,” she said sweetly. “I’m bringing my boyfriend, in case you’re too thick to get it.

“Oh. Right. Well. Sarrah, what do you say?”

Sarrah glanced at Pansy before she said, “No, thanks. I’ve got plans for that night.”

“Shawna?”

“Her plans are with me.”

“Michelle?”

Michelle also glanced at Pansy, but she was evidently a bit braver than Sarrah. She gave a resigned sigh. “Sure.”

Zabini did a double-take. “You will?”

“Sure. I suppose someone has to go with you. I have no plans that night. You’d better show me a good time.”

“Oh, I will! Promise!”

Harry caught Pansy’s eye, and she gave an almost imperceptible shrug. He hoped that the party was large enough that he would be able to avoid them. For that matter, he hoped he could avoid McLaggen too.

The Christmas party would be Pansy’s first date in almost a year. She had broken up with Terry Boot last December. She’d snogged quite a bit at her birthday party at the end of May, but nothing had come of any of it. She’d had no time to start a relationship when the O.W.L.s were only days away. Over the summer, the only boys accessible were Harry, Draco, Theo, and Arcen. Harry was obviously out of the question. Draco was with Ginny. Theo, naturally, was utterly out of the question. Arcen was only a few months younger than her, but it was too much for her to take. Not only was he younger, but he was also immature, and Pansy liked a certain gravitas. Back at school, she was basking in the adoration of the entire house.

Daphne had never been one to be in a relationship. She had gone with Charles Warrington III to the Yule Ball and dated him for a time, but when he had largely ignored her during the summer, she had broken up with him. She hadn’t gone with anyone since. She seemed perfectly fine with being single.

Arcen and Lucas had tried to get Shawna and Sarrah to go out with them last year. Neither had any success. This year, Lucas was too focused on revenge to care about dating. Arcen had continued trying to woo the two girls, but he’d had more luck with Michelle. Nothing too serious had started yet, if her accepting a date with Zabini was any indicator.

Goyle had been walking out with Mandy Brocklehurst during fourth year. With all the trouble caused by Voldemort’s return, he hadn’t kept up the relationship, and she’d broken up with him. Crabbe hadn’t really dated anyone aside from escorting Ginny to the Yule Ball.

Harry thought it quite splendid that not everyone felt the need to pair off. It made hanging out easier, and there was less possibility for a ruined friendship.

In Duelling Club, Harry was amused to see Romilda Vane continue to pursue Ron Weasley. She asked to partner with him, asked for his help with spells, and watched him constantly. Weasley seemed quite flustered by her, so Harry found a reason to throw them together at least twice a meeting. His relationship with Chrissy Golding in fourth year hadn’t lasted past the summer. He had had one date with Amy Geagan in fifth year, but there had been too much else going on to try for a relationship. There had been little gossip about whom Ron was dating this year.

On paper, Ron was somewhat fanciable. He was Gryffindor’s Seeker, he had won the first Hogwarts Broom Race, and he was tall. Harry wasn’t quite sure how that balanced out his atrocious table manners, his constant flying off the handle, or his substandard intelligence, but if that’s what Romilda liked, she was welcome to him.

Harry still wasn’t sure why his ceasefire with Weasley hadn’t dissolved yet. Given how much he and Weasley loathed the sight of each other, they should have been hexing each other on the train. It was nice, though, not to have to worry about the berk starting a fight every day.

* * *

 

At their next monthly tea, Harry and Professor Slughorn discussed Remus. The man was always so mild-mannered and laid back. He was often the one scandalized by the Marauder stories that Sirius insisted on telling.

“Ah, Mister Lupin.” Slughorn leaned back in his chair and stared off into space. “How is he?”

“He just got married.”

“Did he now?” Slughorn cried with delight. “Marvelous! Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Her name is Tonks. She’s an Auror.”

“Tonks, Tonks… not related to Tonks Benzwith, the inventor of the Sneakoscope?”

“I don’t think so, sir. Her father is Muggleborn.”

Slughorn passed the plate of sweets. “Ah, Ted Tonks. There’s a boy I enjoyed having in class. Very eager to learn, that one. I was delighted when he and Miss Black hit it off. It happened at one of my parties, you know.”

“Their daughter’s name is Nymphadora, but she always went by Tonks. Now that she’s married, she changed it to Tonks Black Lupin.”

“That sounds like something Andromeda would do. If her daughter is anything like she is, Remus is in for an exciting time.”

“Tonks was a Hufflepuff like her dad,” Harry remembered.

Slughorn nodded. “Hufflepuffs make some of the best Aurors. They’re fierce, tenacious, and they absolutely do not give up.”

Harry frowned in confusion. “Hufflepuffs are really cool. How did they get this reputation as duffers?”

Slughorn chuckled. “One Hufflepuff somewhere, in a high profile moment, completely bunked it up, and all Hufflepuffs have suffered from his ignobility ever since. They are far from the only house to be stereotyped. Look at our own noble Slytherin.”

Harry nodded. “So, what was Remus like as a student?”

“He was never the best Potions student, I’m sorry to say.” Slughorn poured another cup of tea. “He earned passing marks, but that’s all I can say. He scraped his OWL, and he chose not to continue to NEWT level. Probably for the best. I don’t think he would have been terribly happy.”

“He told me it wasn’t his favourite subject.”

“No, certainly not. Still, we can’t all be the best at everything. Some of us are only good at one thing. Others, none at all.” Slughorn shook his head sadly. “He excelled at Defence and Charms. He was appointed prefect in fifth year, as I’m sure you know.”

“Peter didn’t have the marks, and apparently my dad and Sirius weren’t suitable.”

“One might say that, certainly!” Slughorn said with a booming laugh. “It was the obvious choice. He was always the most serious of the group. He seldom laughed. Being afflicted by the cursed bite at such a young age, terrible, terrible. He was a studious boy. He understood how lucky he was to be in the castle at all and was determined to make the most of it. He was lucky that Dumbledore is so open-minded. Not every headmaster would have allowed him to come to Hogwarts. I thought it was quite radical, myself. Of course, that was before the Wolfsbane Potion had been invented.”

“I don’t see why any young werewolf shouldn’t get the chance at an education. They’ve got to be productive members of society during the majority of the lunar cycle, after all.”

“Thankfully there are not many young werewolves. At least that used to be true. There is one particularly twisted one named Fenrir Greyback. He specializes in children. He believes that if he can get enough to grow up as werewolves that he can build an army to seize power. He’s mad, of course, but that’s his goal.”

“Remus told me that Greyback is the one who bit him.”

“Lyall Lupin insulted Greyback, stating that all werewolves were filthy abominations and deserved to die. Greyback repaid the insult by coming into his five year old son’s room and attacking him. Lyall came running and drove Greyback off, but the damage was already done.”

“He spreads the curse as a political statement?” Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “That’s disgusting!”

“As I said, a madman. The curse has destroyed his moral centre, if he ever had one to begin with.”

Harry thought that was a distinct possibility. He turned the subject back to Remus himself. “What sort of trouble did Remus get into?”

"Oh my." Professor Slughorn laughed. "I'm sure you know the main instigators were always your father and Sirius Black, but Remus had his mischievous streak as well. He was very good at looking innocent, so they always selected him if the operation called for it." 

"They sound quite organized." Harry suppressed a smile, wondering if Sirius would have thought of them as  _ operations _ .

"They had to be if they were going to get away with it, I think. It may have been Remus whose skills in that area rubbed off on the other three. As I recall, things were rather haphazard at first. Then, they stopped getting caught so often. No doubt Remus' doing." 

“Not so much a ringleader as a tactical planner?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s good enough.”

Harry grinned. He could see it from what he knew of Remus as an adult. He wondered how he would react to knowing what kind of stories Harry was hearing from Professor Slughorn. He poured them both another cup of tea.

“So I hear Remus is responsible for Professor Pinichot’s retirement.”

Professor Slughorn roared with laughter. “The partially successful Disillusionment Charm! I haven’t thought about that in years!”

* * *

 

It took perhaps a month for Lucius to hear back from Mr. Weasley. The dwarfs had agreed to a meeting. Their party consisted of Harry, Lucius, and Sirius, but the journey to the dwarfen city was not easy. Since none of them had been there, Apparition was out. Dwarfs could not get Portkeys made.

They met a dwarf in a shady establishment in Knockturn Alley at noon. He was about half the height of a full-grown human, though much brawnier. With his beard, no one would ever mistake him for a child. He wore a hooded cloak over a black leather shirt and trousers. He carried a wicked-looking knife on his belt.

“You are Malfoy?” He sounded very much not English, nor Scottish, nor Irish, nor any other accent that Harry was familiar with.

“I am.”

“Come with me.”

They followed the short being into the back room, out through a hidden passage, and into another room. There was a great stone arch here, decorated in a type of runes that Harry had never seen before.

“Enter.”

Suddenly Harry felt a stab of fear. The last magical arch he’d encountered had been the Veil in the Exile Room. When one went through, one didn’t come back.

Their guide waited impatiently.

“I’ll go first,” Lucius said. He stepped under the arch and kept walking. He slowly faded from sight.

“Shall we, Harry?”

Harry didn’t feel anything as he walked, but when he looked back, the room had disappeared. Behind him was a blank stone wall and another arch.

“This way.”

Half a dozen brown-robed dwarfs waited for them at the entrance of the tunnel. They had their hoods up, and the only thing Harry could see was their great, bushy beards. They formed up around the humans and began to walk.

The tunnel exited into a large cavern. Hundreds of buildings dotted the landscape. It was more than a town; it was a proper city. Merchants with teams of horses and wagons full of goods moved along the streets. Street performers practiced their craft in front of groups of children.

As they walked along the path, Harry saw some truly incredible sights. The buildings were all of an alien architecture. No two were the same. Straight lines could not be found. Everything had softer, rounded edges. They were amazingly pretty. 

At one point they encountered a house under construction. Aside from the usual hammers and other tools, Harry saw a number of strange implements. Two dwarfs were using wands unlike anything he’d ever seen. Different gemstones glittered and sparkled in the light.

Several buildings were clearly religious in nature, with intricately carved columns. They looked somewhat like pictures of Greek and Roman temples that Harry had seen in books. The walls were decorated with effigies, frescos, and other works of art that he didn’t have names for. It was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.

A procession of white-robed monks walked with steady purpose accompanied by drums and small bells. These were obviously members of the religious caste.

They passed one building that was completely empty. It was a small fortress, but the gate was open. No soldiers manned the posts. In the courtyard, a single battle-axe was embedded in the stone floor. Then Harry understood. It was left empty as a memorial to the lost warrior caste. Nothing was more powerful than seeing where they should be.

They came at last to the Mining Guild. Harry couldn’t read the writing on the walls, but he clearly identified the pictures of dwarfs with pick-axes.

They had to duck to fit through the doorway, and once through their heads brushed the ceiling. Inside they found a dozen dwarfs seated at a triangular stone table, also highly carved. These dwarfs wore a variety of colours. All were rotund, with great long beards. Some had black hair, others brown. There were easily a hundred gemstones between them, worn on rings, pendants, and chains. It was great wealth, easily enough to buy anything in the Muggle world.

One dwarf, older than the others, with iron grey hair and beard, stood up to greet them. "We welcome you to our city, Mister Potter. May the darkest cave hold no secrets from you."

Harry had been instructed on proper etiquette, and responded, "Thank you. May your mines never run dry."

The old dwarf nodded approvingly. “I am Lord Dumpling. I am First Miner. You, of course, need no introduction.”

“You speak the truth, but my companions may not be so well known. This is my godfather, Sirius Black.”

The dwarf leader seemed impressed. “Even here in Saturgos, we have heard the name of Sirius Black. We welcome you, sir, and congratulate you on your vindication.”

“Thank you, Master Miner. That I am known even among another species of beings fills me with great humility.”

The dwarf inclined his head.

Harry continued the introductions. “May I introduce my friend, Mister Lucius Malfoy?”

“This name we also know. Welcome, Lucius Malfoy.”

Lucius bowed slightly. “Thank you, Master Miner. I am pleased to be here. May your diggings be fruitful.”

Lord Dumpling grinned invitingly. "Well, now that the formalities have been observed, let us have some refreshment during our discussion. What can the Mining Guild do for you?"

Servants began to pour a wine that was so deep purple that it was almost black. Harry accepted what appeared to be a stuffed mushroom. "I wish to hire you for a job."

Lord Dumpling tore a loaf of bread in half and offered one piece to Harry. "Me? I am honoured." He began to spread a dark jelly on his bread.

Harry did likewise and found the jelly to be similar to blackberry. "Not just you. The whole guild."

The dwarf leader considered the magnitude of such a job. "You must have a very large project or a very pressing need."

"Both. I need you to help me enter the tunnels under Gringotts."

The other dwarfs fell silent and began to exchange glances, but Lord Dumpling laughed.

"Planning a sneak attack on the goblins, eh? I like that. Never did like those bat-eared penny-pinchers. I'd rather deal with the gnomes of Zürich any day."

"We just need you to get us in. We have a bit of mischief to get up to inside, but once we get what we need, we'll return to your tunnel, and you can collapse it behind us as we make good our escape."

Lord Dumpling stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Such a thing is possible, but the caverns of Gringotts are vast. Can you perhaps narrow down the target?”

"The vault is at the very bottom. That will make it easier."

"What you propose is of great risk. It could start another war between dwarfs and goblins.  The last war wiped out our warrior caste. We have no more soldiers to fight."

"I know. I would never ask this lightly, but there is nothing of greater importance. I will pay whatever you ask.”

Lord Dumpling admonished him. “A very poor bargaining posture, Mister Potter. You betray your urgency.”

Harry felt chagrined. He’d shown his hand.

“However, as we are  _ not _ goblins, we will not use such a revelation against you. May we ask why this is so important?”

Harry had to demure. “I can only tell you vague details.”

Lord Dumpling had been expecting as much. “As much as you can.”

“We seek an ancient relic that has been imbued with foul magic. It is crucial to the current struggle against Voldemort.”

To Harry’s intense surprise, none of the dwarfs flinched.

“We know of this conflict. Even we who have little to do with the world above know the evilness that is Voldemort. The last war did not touch us. It was our sincerest hope that this new war would not either.”

“That won’t be an option this time. Either he will be destroyed or he will have dominion over all.”

At this pronouncement, the dwarfs all exchanged worried looks, and many of them fell to whispering in their own language.

“We of course wish for the former.”

“Then help us,” Harry pleaded. “Help me.”

“We must discuss this. I am First Miner, but I cannot speak for the dwarfen nation, not when this job could ignite a new war with the goblins.”

“I understand, of course.”

“I will convene a meeting of the guildmasters. We will decide what the caste will do. Then we will inform the other caste. The high priest and his council of clerics will decide. If there is agreement, we will accept your contract.”

“With respect, do you know approximately how long that might take?”

“Certainly not more than a month.”

“I see. You know how to contact me?”

“We do.”

“Then I look forward to that day.”

“Farewell, Mister Potter.”

Lord Dumpling rose and left the room, many of his fellow miners following.


	20. Holiday Cheer

**** Twas the night of Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party, and Harry was feeling anxious. He had asked Pansy to go with him, wanting to help her meet the important guests. He had intended it to be as friends, but things had happened differently than had played out in his imagination. Now he wasn’t sure if they were going as friends or something more. It was, he reflected ruefully, the same situation he had hoped to avoid with Tracy. Not for the first time (and probably not for the last), he cursed whoever had made up the rules of interactions between boys and girls.

Harry had a very nice dark grey robe that he wore open over black trousers and a forest green button-up shirt. Shoshi, his Reflective Friend  ( ™ ) , had helped him put together the outfit. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back and exposing the scar on his forehead for all to see. He knew he’d never be able to avoid recognition or entanglement tonight, so he might as well own who he was. He wanted to appear confident, secure, and in control. He pinned his Duelling Captain badge to his robes and buffed a fingerprint away.

Getting ready took little time. Once he was dressed, he had nearly an hour before he was due to meet Pansy in the common room. 

Pansy had done herself up fancy. She was, as she so often boasted, a mistress of makeup. Her black hair was long and wavy, flowing down over one shoulder. She wore a nice dress robe. The sea blue went well with Harry’s shirt even though they hadn’t coordinated.

Harry took her hand and gravely raised it to his lips. “Pansy, you look beautiful.”

She beamed at him. “Thank you, Harry, and you are very handsome. Dapper, even. Are you wearing aftershave?”

“I am.” He was freshly shaved and hadn’t even cut himself once, a first.

“It smells good.” She leaned in and inhaled deeply. “Oh yes, very nice. Are we ready?”

“We just need to wait for Draco and Ginny.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Must we?”

“We should. They’d wait for us.”

Eight o’clock came and went. Pansy grew more agitated by the moment. She toyed with her hair and paced back and forth.

“What’s taking them so long?” she demanded. “The plan was to be fashionably late, not late.”

Harry shrugged helplessly. Neither of them was in the common room yet. He found himself checking the time after he’d just put his watch away. At last he’d had enough.

“Shall we?” he said.

“Let’s,” Pansy said with relief.

He offered his arm, which she took. She leaned up and brushed her lips against his cheek.

“Hey, what are the prefects up to?” someone called as they crossed the common room.

“Looks like a fancy dinner date.”

“And we weren’t told?”

“I’m offended.”

“Professor Slughorn invited a few people to dine with him tonight,” Harry said, injecting as much poshness and sheer superiority as he could into his tone. His stride slowed and became more of a saunter.

“Such a shame you didn’t get one,” Pansy said airily.

“Come, Pansy,” Harry said, still holding his head high. “We must be off.”

“Yes, Harry, we must. No time to speak with the little people.”

That barb earned protests as they exited into the dungeons.

“I still can’t believe you asked me out on a date,” she said as they headed for Slughorn’s office.

Harry laughed lightly. “It’s not a date. It’s just dinner with a friend who is sure to enjoy this night far more than me. You love social events.”

“I do. Thank you for inviting me. Everyone else thinks it’s a date, though, so you might as well prepare to hear a lot of questions about it.”

“I’ll need a canned response,” he said, thinking of the time Laine had taught him that lesson, her first night as his self-declared public relations agent.

“Exactly.”

“It’s just dinner with a friend,” he added.

“And that’s the story we’ll stick to.”

Harry wanted to say it wasn’t a story, but he stopped. There was no need to say something that might cause hurt feelings. They were about to go have fun, supposedly.

As they approached Slughorn’s office, they heard the sounds of laughter, music, and loud conversation were growing stronger with every step they took.

Professor Slughorn had done some astounding magical trickery to make his office much larger than usual. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the centre of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables. 

“Harry, m’boy!” boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as Harry and Pansy had squeezed in through the door. “Come in, come in, so many people I’d like you to meet!” 

Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry’s arm so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, Slughorn led him purposefully into the party; Harry seized Pansy’s hand and dragged her along with him. 

“Harry, I’d like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires -- and, of course, his friend Sanguini.” 

Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry’s hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited. 

“Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!” said Worple, peering shortsightedly up into Harry’s face. “I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, ‘Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?’”

Harry knew there was quite an industry around his name. He’d read a few of the books that supposedly documented his childhood adventures. There wasn’t enough childhood for him to have done all those things without benefit of time travel -- which a few of the stories did have -- and the feats he’d supposedly done were incredible even for a fully-qualified wizard. Sirius had sicced the solicitors on every single person or company making a profit off Harry’s name, and the books and merchandise had vanished from store shelves. Some of it had surely gone underground.

“Were you?” he replied dryly. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste.”

“Just as modest as Horace described!” said Worple delightedly. “But seriously”-- his manner changed; it became suddenly businesslike -- “I would be delighted to write it myself -- people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you -- ask Sanguini here if it isn’t quite -- Sanguini, stay here!” added Worple, suddenly stern, for the vampire had been edging toward the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye. “Here, have a pasty,” said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sanguini’s hand before turning his attention back to Harry. 

“My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea -”

“I have more gold than I know what to do with, thanks,” Harry said firmly.

“One can never have too much gold.”

“There are more important things than gold anyway.”

Worple’s eyes boggled almost out of his head. “More important than gold?” He sounded as though someone had suggested he stop breathing.

“Indeed. Excuse me, please.”

Harry pulled Pansy toward the punch bowl.

“I’m sixteen years old and I need a biographer?” The very idea was revolting.

“Apparently. I’ll buy a copy.” Pansy smiled winsomely up at him.

“Your biography is on sale? Can I get a signed copy, Potter?”

Amazingly enough, such a taunt did not come from Ron Weasley. Harry turned around to see Zabini standing there with his date Michelle. He looked incredibly well put-together in a set of copper-coloured dress robes. It went splendidly with his dark skin. His face was smooth as glass, and Harry could smell his aftershave from ten feet away.

Michelle had grown up a lot from the kid Harry had taken to the Yule Ball. She was the tallest of the fifth and sixth year girls now. She’d also gotten curvier, and her red robes tonight were much nicer than the ones she’d worn that night.

Harry knew they were spending a lot of time together. He scanned the Marauder’s Map often, keeping an eye out for suspicious behaviour, looking for names that didn’t belong. He’d come to know all of the students in the school. He knew who was dating whom. In Pansy’s hands, it would enable her to rule the school utterly. As it was, Harry made sure to keep Astoria informed of new developments.

“Sure, Zabini,” Harry said casually, “but no cutting in the line.”

“Line?” he said distastefully. “No special treatment for an old school chum?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re not my chum. You are someone I was in classes with for a couple of months.”

“We shared a dormitory, mate.”

“I’m not your mate. You didn’t come with us to take care of the troll, and then you were pulled out of school. You’ve had a chip about it ever since you got back. Yes, I’m sorry your mum’s paranoid, but I don’t see how it’s my fault we aren’t friends.”

Harry was used to being at parties with people he liked. Being at a social function where he had to interact with people he wasn’t friendly with was a new experience for him. Slug Club dinners were one thing, but having to make polite chit-chat with Zabini and Michelle was agonizing. He had almost nothing that he wanted to say to them or talk about with them. He didn’t care about their opinions in the slightest. He looked around for someone more interesting.

Zabini retorted, “I was back all last year, and you lot never even tried to make me feel welcome again. I was perfectly friendly, but you all shut me out. By the way, I didn’t think your little prank the other morning was very funny.”

“Prank?” Pansy inquired

“My curtains wouldn’t let me out of my bed,” he said with a huff. “I missed breakfast and was nearly late to Care of Magical Creatures.”

“That’s kind of pathetic, Zabini,” Harry said breezily. “Couldn’t even open your curtains?”

“My wand was on my bedside table. If I’d had it, it would have been no trouble.”

“So I’ve got a question,” Pansy said. “Zabini, why didn’t you write us any letters during the Triwizard Tournament? For someone who claims to want to be friends as much as you do, I find that lack of communication suspicious. For that matter, how come you never wrote to us at all? You obviously didn’t miss us all that much. Too busy having fun at Beauxbatons, I daresay.”

“I was busy!” he protested.

“So were we, Zabini.”

“I was learning French!” Now he sounded a bit whingy.

“Big deal,” Pansy declaimed. “We had the spirit of a Dark Lord inhabiting our Defence teacher.”

Zabini stopped dead. “Quirrell had the Dark Lord in his body?”

“He was trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“What?!”

Harry gave him a cold look. “Voldemort is on the move again, and we don’t know who I can trust, Zabini. Pansy’s right. In all those years, you never wrote to us, and now that you’re back you want to be chummy? Just like that? How do I know you’re not working for Voldemort?”

Just then Harry saw Draco and Ginny approaching.

“Excuse us, please. I’ve got to speak with Draco.”

“Sure,” Zabini said sardonically to Harry’s back as he walked away with Pansy on his arm. “Accuse me of being a Death Eater and walk away. Real nice, Potter. Forget you. Come on, Michelle.”

“Where have you been?” Harry demanded of his best mate.

“Tetchy, isn’t he?” Draco said to Pansy.

She nodded. “A bit. He doesn’t like people, as you know.”

“I like people!” Harry protested. “Well, some people at least. Nobody here, of course, but-”

Ginny gasped, and then a look of understanding came over her face. “Ah, sarcasm.”

Harry couldn’t tell if she was being serious or facetious.

“I see Longbottom over there. Who’s that with him? I can’t get a good look at her,” Draco said, changing the subject.

“Bubbles Brown, I think,” Ginny said, rising up on her tiptoes to peer over the crowd.

“Yeah?” Draco said, sounding vaguely impressed. “Good on him.”

“Leave Lav alone,” Harry scolded him. Lav was in the Duelling Club, proving her very large Gryffindor heart every meeting. She still struggled with a number of spells, but had mastered many more. “She’s a wonderful girl. Not the very smartest, no, but she has many other attributes.”

“She certainly does,” Pansy said with a snicker. “They jiggle every time she dodges a spell.”

“She’s one of the biggest cogs in the gossip network,” Ginny said. “I think she and Pansy only pretend to dislike each other. I’ve seen them whispering many times.”

“Nah, they’re in competition,” Draco said. “Pansy told me all about it when we were dating. More than a bloke needs to know, to be honest.”

“Will you stop talking about me as though I’m not standing right here? Draco, stop telling tales.”

Nearby there was a sudden crash, and Harry looked quickly to see someone bounce off the wall and stumble around off-balance.

It was Professor Trelawney. Harry had never had much respect for her, hearing about her classes secondhand. Professor McGonagall didn’t think much of her or her subject, and Harry had a good amount of respect for old McGonagall. That had all changed as soon as Harry had learned the truth about the prophecy concerning him and Voldemort. One legitimate prophecy had come through her. She might have been a fraud in every other way, but she was a true Seer.

The Seer couldn’t see very well. She appeared to be highly intoxicated. Harry could recognize the signs now. She’d dropped her wineglass.

Strangely, it was Professor Snape who appeared as if from thin air to catch her before she fell. He repaired the glass with a non-verbal wave of his wand and helped Trelawney to a chair.

“Wow, Snape is acting nice,” McLaggen said from nearby. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

Harry rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to hex him.

The music changed. The string ensemble finished up, and the Weird Sisters began to play. Their first tune was a lively jam. They sounded a lot better than they had two years ago at the Yule Ball.

“C’mon,” Pansy said. “Let’s dance!”

Harry had never considered himself much of a dancer. He’d learned from Pansy and Daphne in fourth year, enough to not embarrass himself at the Yule Ball. He’d been to several other parties since then where dancing had been required, and he’d managed to hold his own. Tonight Pansy was going all out. While normally the wizard led his witch around the dancefloor, Pansy was unquestionably leading him. It was a bit of a change, but he trusted Pansy not to steer him wrong. She kept up a steady stream of instructions to him, and they ended the dance with a dramatic dip.

“Well done,” she told him. “Another?”

“Definitely!”

Harry was having fun despite himself. Pansy was in her element, her broad smile revealing perfect pearly white teeth. When they weren’t showing off on the dancefloor, she was talking to everyone. Harry had never met so many interesting people at one time before and felt completely dazed. He was glad Pansy could talk  _ ad infinitum _ . 

They had just fetched glasses of punch when they’d been roped into a conversation by McLaggen and his date, Sally-Anne Perks. In addition to being a Quidditch lout, he was quite an abrasive person in every meeting of the Slug Club. Nobody ever wanted to sit next to him, and whoever was so unlucky usually tried to talk to the person on the other side. Perks was an utterly forgettable sixth year Hufflepuff girl. Harry couldn’t recall hearing her say more than a few sentences.

“Nice party,” McLaggen said, gulping his punch.

“Must you drink like a horse?” Pansy inquired.

“What?”

Pansy continued, “It’s quite the gathering, I must admit. Even my father hasn’t met half of these people.”

“He’ll be proud of you for making new connexions,” Harry said.

“I hope so.”

“A bit warm, though,” he said, running a finger along his collar.

Pansy instantly turned solicitous. “Shall we get some air?”

“Yes, let’s. See you later, McLaggen,” Harry said. “Much, much later, I hope,” he added in an undertone.

The door opened out onto a magnificent balcony lit with flickering torches. Harry wondered how Slughorn’s interior office had a balcony, but he chalked it up to magic. The fresh air cleared his head immediately. The sky was clear and the stars were magnificent. The waves of the lake lapped on the shore.

“Look, the giant squid is out,” Harry said, pointing.

“Ooh,” Pansy said, moving to the rail.  “I wish I could remember that magnification charm.”

“Do you really want to look at it?”

“Well, it’s more interesting than some of the conversations I’ve had tonight.”

He winced. “Ouch. That’s a bit harsh.”

“I tell it like it is.”

“You always do, Pansy.”

They took in the scenery for a few quiet moments. The music inside changed from up-beat to a slower ballad. Pansy slipped her hand into his. Suddenly the bottom dropped out of his stomach and his heart began to race.

“Thanks for asking me tonight, Harry. All joking aside, I am having a lot of fun. I’m really glad it’s with you.”

“I’m actually having a good time,” he admitted reluctantly.

“We always seem to have fun together. We’ve been great friends, especially in the past few years.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’ve never seemed to want to be more than that, and though I don’t understand why, I respect it.”

Harry’s pulse jumped. Talking about feelings always made him nervous. “I always thought you were interested in Theo or Draco or Terry. I had enough other things going on that I didn’t need to add you into the equation. I thought you were interested in Neville this year.”

“I am, but we’re still in the early stages. He didn’t even try to ask me to this party.” She looked deep into his eyes. “Forget all other considerations for just a moment. There’s just you and just me. Would you want to be with me?”

Harry could answer that question easily. “Yes, I would. Who wouldn’t?”

She leaned forward and kissed him. Her soft lips pressed to his, tender and warm. For a moment they stayed that way, then heads began to move and mouths mingled.

Harry and Pansy had kissed on a few occasions before. Each time it had been fun. Sometimes it had been hot and heavy, but always with the understanding that they were friends. This time was different. There was something open and inviting in her kiss that he’d never felt before.

He broke away, and she gasped for air. Her chest heaved as passion smouldered in her eyes. He felt his knees shaking.

“Pansy, no,” he said weakly.

Her lips trembled. “Harry-”

“We can’t-”

She pulled him closer. “We can if we want to.”

“Pansy-”

“You are so completely lovable.”

That stopped him dead. When girls started throwing the ‘L’ word around, men trod cautiously.

She took his face in her hands. “You’re the most thoughtful, considerate boy I’ve ever met. You are always thinking about other people and how they feel. Most boys our age are so self-centred. Here we are, in this place, off alone together. If you want to take me in your arms and snog me, then here I am.”

Harry’s brow creased. “You think I need a good snog?”

“I don’t know!” Pansy cried. “I don’t know what you need. If the answer is yes, then let’s get to it. We can have a warm-up here and head somewhere else later, or we can just go directly to later. You asked out a pretty, popular, currently single girl to a fancy dinner party to hobnob with celebrities and don’t want to snog with her? I’m crushed. We’ve kissed before.”

“Not seriously.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Every kiss is serious, Harry, even the ones that aren’t.”

Harry knew he would most likely never understand that remark. “How profound.”

“You’ll understand someday.”

“I doubt it. Pansy, I’m really screwed up right now.”

She did not disagree. “I know. It’s why I’m finally making a move on you after all these years.”

He tried not to sneer too much as he said, “Like the head cases, do you?”

“No, just trying to help a friend in need. What can I do to help you, Harry? I’m doing everything I know to do for someone who is grieving. What more can I do? Help me help you.”

Harry leaned forward and interrupted Pansy mid-rant with a smooch.

“Well,” she said, her irritation gone, “that’s better.”

He had realized he was being a fool. Elan had said that the best way to get over an old girl was a new girl. Theo had convinced him that Laine would want him to move on with his life and find someone new. He’d asked Tracy, but she had declined for now. He didn’t understand why she was willing to snog him - even sleep with him - but didn’t want to be his girlfriend.

Pansy was very good at snogging. They snogged so much, he couldn’t stop grinning.

“This party all you hoped it would be?” he asked when they paused for air.

“And more,” she said with a purr. "I’m finally snogging you and only you.”

“Is that why you had that kissing party last year? Just to snog me?”

Pansy nodded with a wide grin. “Pretty good plan, wasn’t it?”

“I thought the whole point was to throw Draco and Ginny at each other. We had Daphne put the Charm on the bottle.”

“All misdirection, Harry. All misdirection.”

“You could have just asked.”

“But where’s the fun in that? I love a well-executed scheme. Besides, we both got to practice with a lot of different people. Practice is how you learn, and the wider the sample set, the better the results will be.”

“You’re really mixing snogging and Arithmancy principles?”

“Absolutely. Why, don’t you like snogging? We can just discuss Arithmancy if you like.”

He answered her teasing with his tongue.

* * *

 

Tracy wasn’t deliberately waiting up in the common room for Harry and Pansy to return from Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party. It just worked out that way. She had set up in front of the fireplace with all of her homework and started with her Transfiguration assignment. One essay followed another. One take-away test followed reading up on the next potion they would brew. Midnight came without her notice. She was engrossed in the biography on the inventor of the Brass-Polishing Potion, a Professor Dietrich Zahar, when the wall slid open and a laughing couple came walking in.

It was Blaise Zabini and Michelle Holt. Tracy kept her face down, avoiding eye contact with them. She loathed Holt for forcing Harry to ask her to the Yule Ball. There were right and wrong ways to call in a favour. She’d chosen the wrong. Zabini was just an annoying ponce.

“Burning the midnight oil, Davis?” Holt said. “Better not skip out on too much beauty sleep. You’ll get bags under your eyes.”

“Tips from a slag,” she said, turning another page.

“Hey now,” Zabini said. “There’s no call for that kind of language.”

“Get stuffed, Zabini. You don’t know everything.”

“How can I?” he fired back hotly. “Nobody will ever take the time to explain anything to me. Nobody seems to care enough.”

“Well that’s true. Nobody does care about you.”

He turned to his date. “And this is the sort of stuff I was talking about.”

“Hey, one of them stole my phial of Felix Felicis that I won in Potions class," Michelle said indignantly. "They don’t even have the decency to admit it.”

“Mine was stolen too, Holt,” Tracy said, continuing to read. “You don’t see me carrying on like a baby banshee about it. Have you tried asking the villagers yet? Maybe they know something about it.”

“Come on, Blaise,” Holt said, pulling him away. “Leave her alone. You don’t interrupt Davis when she’s studying.”

They went to a far corner of the common room and he moved in for a kiss that turned into a snog. Then they parted ways and went to their dormitories.

Draco and Ginny returned quite late as well. They sat down on one of the couches and continued their snog session.

Last to return was Harry and Pansy. Now Tracy did deign to lift her eyes, and what she saw was shocking. They were holding hands. Both of their lips were swollen, and their hair was terribly mussed. Well, Pansy’s was. Harry’s was about normal. They’d been snogging! For all the claim that they were going as friends, clearly something else had happened tonight.

How could Harry do that to her? Hadn’t he just asked her out a few days ago?

Well, she’d turned him down. She’d told him he still had things to work out.

This was him working it out. She put on a smile.

“Hey, guys! You look like you had fun.”

“It was dead dull,” Harry said. “All anyone cared about was that I was Harry Potter. I wanted to talk about them and the interesting things they’ve done. What’s so interesting about being Harry Potter?”

“Oh, I find him rather intriguing,” Pansy said airily.

Harry rolled his eyes at her. “If I wasn’t talking to people, I was having a pretty decent time. The Weird Sisters were good. We danced a lot.”

“He just kept asking if I wanted to go another.”

“Well, I don’t blame him,” Tracy said. “Anything to avoid making small talk. Really? Nobody interesting at all?”

“Well, Professor Snape was there,” Harry replied. “He’s reasonably interesting.”

“True,” Pansy agreed.

“Draco and Ginny got there late. Any idea why?”

Tracy shook her head. “None at all. They were probably snogging.”

Harry hummed in thought. “Maybe. But no, not very many people I even remember meeting. I was much more interested in dancing and-” he broke off, suddenly flushing red, “and the music.”

Had he and Pansy been snogging at the party? Tracy was sure she would hear all about it from Pansy in the girls’ dormitory later. She wondered if she could find another place to sleep for the night.

“That piper was pretty cute,” Pansy said. “I saw him looking at me a few times.”

“I wondered why he kept glaring at me all night,” Harry quipped.

Pansy giggled. “You’re a smooth talker, Mister Potter.”

He bowed rakishly. “And now,” he said through a yawn, “I believe it is long past bedtime.”

“Good night, Harry,” Pansy said, giving him a smooch on the cheek. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Good night, Harry,” Tracy said, getting in the last word.

“Night, ladies.”

The girls watched him enter the boys’ corridor.

“Are you coming to bed?” Pansy asked Tracy.

Tracy held her tongue and her urge to scream at Pansy. She turned back to her book and said as calmly as she could, “Are you going to rub it in my face about Harry?”

Pansy adopted a hurt expression. “You wound me, Tracy. I thought you only wanted what was best for him. Why would you be upset that he had fun with me?”

“I’m not upset,” Tracy denied. “I just know you. You think it would be fun to talk about how good a kisser Harry is. You think it will hurt me to be reminded of what I once had and still want.”

For her part, Pansy did not deny her activities. “You’re being paranoid. I had a good time with a friend. We’re not engaged or anything.”

“Snog all your friends like that, do you?” Tracy said, unable to prevent a sneer this time. “Oh wait, you do. Who would ever believe that the innocent Pansy Parkinson is so free with her affections?”

“Watch your mouth, Davis,” Pansy snapped. “It was just a party game, and everyone participated. We all had fun. There’s no harm in that.”

Tracy took a deep breath and reminded herself that Harry had offered to break his date with Pansy for her. “Look, Pansy,” she began in a calmer tone, “we both know I still like Harry and there’s never been another. I’ve accepted that he doesn’t feel the same way, but it’s still hard to see him with other people.”

“So that gives you the right to be nasty to me?”

“You do have a tendency to throw things in people’s faces. You did have fun, and you’re going to talk about it. Pardon me if I don’t really want to hear it.”

“See, when you put it like that, you sound much more reasonable. When you practically accuse me of being a slag, it makes me think you’re not my friend.”

“Well, you haven’t treated me very well at times either. Isn’t the strength of our friendship such that we can come back from having little fights with each other?”

Pansy nodded. “Yes, it is. Very well. I promise I won’t gush too much.”

Tracy knew it was still likely to be way more than she wanted to listen to, but it was the best deal she would get that wouldn’t bring a bigger rift and more unpleasantness upon her.

 


	21. New Beginnings

Term was over at last. The last essays had been written and handed in; the last exams had been sat. Harry was extremely thankful for that, and relieved as well. No classes to worry about for a glorious two weeks, and Professor Dumbledore made the holiday even sweeter.

The headmaster rose to his feet when the students were all seated impatiently awaiting the breakfast dishes to be filled. The dull roar in the Great Hall dampened. He looked around at them all with a wide smile.

“We have come to the end of the first term,” he declared, his voice strong, and got no further as his audience burst into cheers and applause. “Yes, we teachers are just as glad as you. Perhaps more so.” Some of the students chuckled, but several of the teachers laughed too. “It has been a trying year thus far. I know you have all been studying diligently. Such hard work and effort ought to be rewarded, so as to encourage more of it. I have decided that it is much more important that you spend your holiday with your families, and so all homework is hereby cancelled.”

For a moment they were certain that they must have heard wrong. Then someone let out a whoop, and pandemonium set in, complete with shrieks and shrill whistles.

_ Sometimes the old man isn’t half bad _ , Harry thought with grudging respect.  _ Nothing to worry about until next term starts. Stellar. _

Then breakfast was served, and everyone filled themselves to the bursting point.

“Well, it took a whole term, but I’m caught up,” Daphne announced proudly.

“Way to go, Daphne!” Pansy cheered.

“Stellar!” Millie said, passing the eggs.

Daphne grinned tiredly. “Thanks. I’m exhausted, but I’m current.”

“Well, you’ve got the holiday to rest,” Harry said blandly. “Does this mean I can expect you back at Duelling Club?”

“You certainly can. I can’t wait.”

“Excellent.” There was someplace else that he expected to see Daphne as well, once he obtained a certain parchment from Mr. Malfoy.

As they boarded the Hogwarts Express to return to London, Harry led the way to a compartment on the end of a car. “We’ll be in this one and the next,” he said.

Normally a compartment only held six people comfortably. If one really tried, eight younger students could fit uncomfortably. Harry, Theo, Draco, Ginny, Pansy, Daphne, Tracy squeezed into the one on the end. This compartment only shared one common wall, and it was with the compartment where Crabbe, Goyle, Arcen, Lucas, and Millie sat. It was as secure as they were likely to get. Harry didn’t plan to discuss anything overly sensitive, but taking precautions was second-nature to him now.

Ginny had initially sat on Draco’s lap to create more space, but her weight was soon too much for him to bear.

“Are you calling me fat?” she demanded hotly when he asked her to move.

“I’m saying that you are a fit and healthy young woman,” Draco said calmly. “As such, you have a certain weight to you, and I simply can’t have that weight on my lap anymore, as much as I was enjoying having you there.”

“Good answer,” Harry muttered.

Ginny gave Draco a peck on the cheek. “Okay, I forgive you.”

They had tried to play cards, but it was too easy to peek at your neighbor’s hand. There was barely any room to breathe. Shifting around so that Ginny wasn’t sitting on Draco’s lap was impossible.

Theo managed to leverage himself to his feet. “It’s too crowded in here to even think. I’m going to take a walk. Daphne, would you care to join me?”

Daphne cocked her head and glanced up at him. “Yeah. Alright then.”

He held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. They exited the compartment, leaving some very surprised friends behind.

“Did Theo just ask Daphne out?” Ginny wondered.

Pansy was gleeful. “He most certainly did. Wow, in front of everyone and everything. Not bad, Nott.”

Draco said, “I thought he was supposed to be wound too tightly to date right now.”

Pansy replied, “Maybe he just wants a snog. Daphne could use a good snog. I hope that’s what he has in mind. I wonder if she’ll think of it.”

“He is right that it’s a bit stuffy in here. Ginny, would you care to take a walk as well?”

“Sure.” She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not looking for Ron to start trouble, are you?”

Draco tried to look innocent. “Is that something I would do?”

Ginny wasn’t buying his act. “You do it all the time!”

“It’s a fair cop,” Harry told him.

“Fine. Maybe I might be looking forward to winding him up a bit if we run into him,” Draco admitted, not sounding very apologetic, “but only if. I’m not going to go knocking on doors looking for him.”

“Very good. See you when you get back from your little constitutional.”

Harry, Pansy, and Tracy suddenly had the compartment to themselves. They spread out, luxuriating in the expanse of empty space.

Pansy shot Harry an inquisitive glance. “If you want to snog too, there’s no reason to leave.”

“I’m still here,” Tracy pointed out. “I don’t want to be the odd one out left watching.”

“Maybe Harry wants to snog you. Maybe I want to watch.”

The blonde girl folded her arms. “Do you?”

Pansy considered the question. “I’ve never really thought about it before. Why don’t you lay one on him, and I’ll see what it’s like.”

Tracy scoffed. “I think you organized that kissing party just so you could watch everyone else.”

Pansy shook her head. “Not just. I got to partake a goodly number of times. Watching was fun too.”

“Do you really want to watch me and Harry kissing?” Tracy demanded.

“No,” Pansy said after a moment. “I’d rather be kissing him. He’s quite good at it.”

“He is, at that.” Tracy unfolded her arms and shifted in her seat. “Well, if I don’t want to watch you, and you don’t want to watch me, where does that leave us?”

“We could kiss each other and let Harry watch,” she replied flippantly.

Harry’s brain had gone numb at the idea of kissing either of the girls while the other watched. The idea of them kissing each other was entirely too much to process. 

Tracy raised an eyebrow. “Pansy, I didn’t know you kissed girls.”

“I don’t.”

“Neither do I.”

“Well, I guess that means snogging is out.” Pansy didn’t sound at all disappointed.

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Tracy picked up the deck of cards.

“Now we don’t even have four, and all the games are more fun with four.”

Pansy stretched her arms out. “I might take a nap.”

* * *

 

Ginny gently squeezed Draco’s hand as they walked down the train car. He squeezed back.

It still amazed her that she was dating a son of the man she had heard her father badmouth often at the dinner table. Dad and Lucius Malfoy detested each other. Yet Mr. Malfoy had always been warm and friendly towards her. After Percy had stopped them all attacking Draco, Mr. Malfoy had taken an interest in Percy’s career and he had skyrocketed to Department Head. He’d been encouraging and supportive when Draco had wanted to date her, something she’d never expected.

“I meant what I said about not antagonizing Ron,” she told her boyfriend seriously. “I’ll be doing the knocking. I want to talk to him about the siblings’ Christmas gift to our parents.”

He held up his free hand. “I’ll be good,” he promised.

“I hope he managed to save a few Knuts this year,” Ginny mused. “Bill and Charlie usually take care of most of it, but everyone has to contribute. Percy and the twins are able to contribute more now, and I think it’s making Ron sore that he doesn’t have any money of his own. I don’t want you saying anything to him about it.”

Draco nodded sagely. “It’s so easy to wind him up about money. Why is he so concerned with it? Your family gets by. You eat very well. Your mother is a stellar cook. The only point of money is to acquire material things that one doesn’t have the patience or skill to make. Is he really so concerned with owning objects? I own a lot of things and don’t care very much for any of them.”

Ginny shrugged helplessly. “I really wish I knew. I wish he’d grow out of it though. It’s tiresome. He cares way too much about the opinions of other people.”

“He hates me,” Draco agreed. “He’s told me so any number of times. Yet I think, for all his talk, he secretly wants to be like me. He wants to have money, to live in a big and fancy house, and to have a very influential father. I don’t believe I’ve ever met your father, but from what you’ve told me about him, he seems like a smashing chap. Your mum, despite her temper, obviously loves you all very much. Your brothers are all very talented. Your house isn’t much, but it’s home filled with family. I don’t know why all that doesn’t seem to be enough for him.”

“I don’t either.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m a Slytherin,” he wondered. “Blood and family mean everything to us. If I didn’t have any money, and I didn’t live in a mansion, and my dad wasn’t important, so long as he, my mother, my brother, and I were all together, I would be the happiest and richest man on Earth.”

“I wish Ron could see this side of you,” Ginny said quietly. “You’re a very decent human being under all that pomp and swagger.”

Draco had the grace to flush briefly. “He brings out the worst in me. I don’t really like myself when I’m acting like that, but I can’t seem to help it. His very existence is aggravating to me.”

She grinned mischievously. “He says the same thing about you.”

“I’ve heard him say it.”

“Where could he be?” she asked with frustration. “I thought we’d have heard his voice by now.”

Just then a compartment door opened and a sixth year Gryffindor girl Ginny thought was named Amy stormed by them, muttering darkly about the intractability of boys and calling down deprecations on Finnigan’s head. She left the door open behind her, and Ginny’s quest was at an end.

* * *

 

Ron Weasley was sitting in a compartment with his mates Seamus and Dean, Amy Geagan and Chrissy Golding, two girls he’d once gone out with briefly, and his new girl interest Romilda Vane.

Romy, as she liked to be called, had more or less stalked and pursued Ron. He had ultimately done the asking, but she had done everything short of stripping her clothes off and throwing herself at him to draw his attention. They had snogged in quiet corners of the common room and on certain side trails on the way up from the Quidditch pitch. She was sitting next to him and had his left arm clutched to her chest. Her right hand played absently with his hair. Every so often she would kiss him, just because she could and there were no teachers to tell them off for it.

Dean and Chrissy had also just recently started going out. They were celebrating that fact by full-on snogging right there in the compartment, regardless of their company. It was most entertaining and informative. Chrissy was sensitive on the nape of her neck and got chills when Dean breathed gently across her skin. Ron did his best to ignore them. He was still rather hacked off at Dean for his rudeness.

“Can you believe Dumbledore cancelling homework like he did?” Seamus said.

Ron shook his head. “Best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”

Romy giggled. “I don’t think he told the teachers. I was looking right at Snape when Dumbledore said no homework, and you’d have thought someone had kicked his dog.”

“We’re the dogs, and Snape usually does the kicking,” Seamus replied.

“I bet he had something nasty for us to do, too,” Ron said. “Greasy, sodding scum-sucker.”

“I really wonder how he treats Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws,” Romy speculated. “Does every form have Slytherins and Gryffindors together?”

“I think so,” Ron said. “Fred and George did, and Percy.”

“What an idiotic concept,” Romy said scornfully. “They should mix it up more.”

“Agreed,” Amy said. “I’d rather have History of Magic with Slytherin than Ravenclaw.”

The conversation faltered as Ron and Romy locked lips again. This time Romy thrust her tongue into his mouth.

“I didn’t realize I was in the snogging car,” Amy said to Seamus.

He glanced at the two couples and looked back at her. “No one told me either.”

“I wonder if this is some plot to get us together. The girls have been commenting lately that I need a boyfriend. What do you think?”

“I don’t really have an opinion on your dating life.”

She giggled. “No, silly. Do you think they’re hoping we’ll pair off?”

“It might be,” Seamus said after a moment’s reflection. “I don’t think I like that. I might have gone along with it if they’d asked me my opinion. You’re a lovely girl and all, but I don’t like being manipulated. Smacks of Slytherin meddling.”

Amy sounded disappointed. “So does that mean we’re not going to snog? On principle?”

“Right,” Seamus said with a nod.

“Oh come on,” she said, giving him a disbelieving look. “We’re the only two here not wiggling tongues together. I feel left out.”

“No thanks, Amy,” Seamus said firmly.

“Don’t know what’s wrong with you,” she muttered as she flounced out of the compartment, leaving the door open. 

“Well, well,” came a much-hated voice. “Ginny, we’ve found your brother. He seems to have something attached to his face. Too pretty to be a lethifold.”

Ron and Romy stopped snogging. It was Ron’s sister and her Slytherin boyfriend, the incarnation of evil, Malfoy.

“Just when things were going so well,” Seamus said regretfully.

Ron rose to his feet, snarling, “Get out of here, Malfoy!”

Ginny stepped inside. “Ron, knock it off. I’m the one who wanted to find you. What have you been doing?”

He glared at her. “Kissing. You may have heard of it. You may have done it a time or two.”

She giggled. “Looked more like trying to lick her tonsils. Is this your new girlfriend?”

“Romilda Vane,” she said, offering her hand. “Call me Romy.”

Ginny shook it limply. “I know you from Duelling Club.”

Romy smiled. “Of course, but we’ve not been properly introduced.”

“You’ve found one with some manners, Ron,” Ginny sassed. “Imagine that. I hope she can teach you some.”

Ron thought that to be uncalled for, especially in front of his friends. “What do you want, Ginny?”

Ginny ignored Ron and kept talking to Romy. “You’re a fourth year, right?”

“Yes.”

“Dreading OWLs next year?” she said sympathetically.

Romy shivered. “Of course. I’ve heard it’s awful.”

“Let me tell you something; fifth year is worse than they tell you. I’m going entirely mad.” She looked at Ron. “You’re dating a girl two forms down?”

“She’s fifteen years old,” Ron said. “I’m only sixteen.”

Ginny tut-tutted at him. “Almost seventeen. Only a few more months, big brother.”

“What’s two forms mean anyway?” Now he was feeling defensive.

“Wait until I tell Mum!” Ginny crowed.

Ron paled. He knew exactly how their mother would take that news. He would have to tell her that he was dating before Ginny could and make sure to mention her age, otherwise his sister would paint it in the worst possible light. He hadn’t planned on telling his parents about Romy quite yet. He wanted to make sure it wasn’t just some fling like his relationships with Chrissy and Amy had been.

“I’m old for my yeargroup,” Romy said. “I was born second of September. He’s first of March. Eighteen months is nothing.”

She was the most developed girl in fourth year and carried herself with a great deal of pride. She thought herself very mature and the boys around her unbearably stupid and silly. She wanted an older boy.

Malfoy, who had heretofore been quiet, said, “It’s not as common as it used to be, but it’s not unheard of. I think the most you could go would be a third year and a seventh year. If the younger were a second year, then the most would be a fifth year. With a first year, a third year.”

Romy nodded. “Exactly. The older we get, the greater age gap is acceptable. It’s not inappropriate for a first year student to have romantic inclinations. Eleven and twelve is when the child’s body begins to mature and certain urges,” she looked pointedly at Dean and Chrissy, who still hadn’t come up for air, “come over us. I had my first kiss in first year.”

“Draco, you’re taking all the fun out of this,” Ginny complained.

“I thought you told me not to antagonize him,” he said, sounding confused.

She smacked him on the arm. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you take his side.”

“Eew,” Ron said. “A Malfoy on my side? Spare me.”

“You should be so lucky,” Malfoy shot back. “Then you might be going places.”

Despite himself, Ron grinned. “That’s more like it,” he enthused.

“Ron, I want to talk about Mum and Dad’s Christmas present.”

Panic hit him like a bucket of water. He had only managed to save a handful of Knuts toward the gift for their parents. “Not now, Gin.”

“But Ron!”

The tips of his ears were burning. “Not  _ now _ , Ginevra!”

“Fine! Be that way,  _ Ronald _ !”

“I will be!”

She flounced away, and Draco went with her without any snide comment. It was unnerving.

“Well, she seems very nice,” Romy said. “Now, where were we?”

Before they could resume their very enjoyable activity, Ron’s nemesis from the Quidditch team poked his head in.

“Ah, Ron!” Cormac McLaggen said with delight. “I must have a word about the team. I have a number of ideas for our next practice and wanted to discuss them with you in detail.”

Gryffindor’s Seeker could not contain a groan.

* * *

 

The train pulled into King’s Cross station and slowed to a halt with a great burst of steam and smoke. The doors flew open, and students began to debark. Owls hooted in cages, cats whined in carriers, and students made a great deal of noise. It was utterly chaotic as students looked for their parents. There were many happy hugs, and several children who were too cool for that were embarrassed.

Harry grabbed his trunk and hauled it onto the platform. He took one look at the throng of people and decided to hang back a bit. He was in no particular hurry.

Pansy touched his shoulder. He turned to her, and she wrapped her arms around him. His nose was buried in her hair, and he smelled apple blossoms. 

“Take care, Harry,” she whispered in his ear. Her breath tickled and the sensation sent chills down his spine. “Write me or firecall me if you want to talk.”

“I will.”

She snogged him silly, and Harry was left with a goofy grin. He watched Pansy disappear into the crowd.

Tracy was nearby, her face unreadable. Harry smiled weakly at her, knowing she’d seen that snog. He felt a twinge of guilt in his guts. The corners of her mouth slowly pulled up. Then her sister was there bustling her away. She waved to him, but she did not see him wave back.

Theo dragged his trunk next to Harry’s. “Waiting it out?”

Harry cast a Cushioning Charm on his trunk and sat down to get comfortable. “No sense otherwise. It’s just not orderly. We could walk within ten feet of Sirius and not see him.”

Draco waited with them, but after only a few moments, Elan found them. After exchanging greetings, he seemed in no hurry to depart. He sat down next to Draco.

Harry asked, “Everything wedding all set to go?” 

“I presume so. I’ve been staying out of it,” he said firmly. “The important things are taken care of. I did what I had to do. The rest of it is all non-essential stuff. The last time I tried to help, I got yelled at. If my help isn’t wanted, then I’ll keep it. Simple as that. All we have to do is show up tomorrow and look great.” 

“Sounds great.” 

Before long, the platform cleared out a bit, and Harry was able to see Sirius approaching. 

“Hello, boys,” he said. “Ready to go?”

“We are,” Harry said.

Sirius grinned. “Elan, are you excited about tomorrow?”

Elan’s expression grew rather goofy. “I am. I’ve found one fine witch, and I’m crazy in love with her.”

“And friends as well?” Sirius inquired.

“Friends as well. We’ve known each other for over ten years.”

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. “Then you’ll do well. Friendship is so important for a relationship.”

“Is that why you haven’t gotten married yet?” Elan asked slyly, turning the teasing back on the older man. “No lady friends? Who’s your date tomorrow?”

“I haven’t gotten married yet because I haven’t found the right girl yet,” Sirius retorted. “I have plenty of lady friends, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with any of them. As for tomorrow, I will be escorting no one. I’m not about to bring some breezy dame to a high-class function involving people I care about.”

Elan placed a hand over his heart. “Thank you, cousin. Your courtesy is boundless.”

“We obviously need to spend more time together.”

“Another time, perhaps. For now, we must be off. See you tomorrow.”

The brothers Malfoy went home. Sirius and the boys made their way to the Apparition point and popped over to #12 Grimmauld Place.

* * *

 

Elan and Bridget were getting married.

They’d set the date for the winter solstice, because Bridget had wanted a winter theme. It was her favourite season. She demanded real snow, insisting that magic snow wasn’t good enough for her. 

Elan’s stag night was even rowdier than Remus’, as Harry and Draco heard. They hadn’t been able to attend, being both in school and underage. Percy, as best man, had planned it, so while that might normally mean a fairly tame evening, the other groomsmen Sam Palce and Lawrence Derrick held nothing back. Everyone had met up at Percy’s flat. He had maintained it, despite being forced to move home to recuperate. Lawrence, or Reny, as he was called by his good and dear friends, was a heck of a bartender, and he doled out drinks like a machine. They’d gotten Percy plastered and then gone out to an exclusive club. The pictures, Reny said with a conspiratorial wink, were in several safe locations.

The groom’s party gathered at the church two hours before the ceremony to get ready. Wizard’s robes were very different from the tuxedo he’d worn for Remus and Tonks’ wedding. Harry enjoyed the spacious garments and the way they billowed about him as he walked.

At last it was time. Elan and Percy waited at the front while the groomsmen goofed off in the back. Sam was a bit on the quiet side, especially compared to Reny. 

The doors to the bride’s preparation room opened, and the four bridesmaids came out. They looked fantastic in their pale green dresses. Harry bowed courteously to his partner, Jessica Conejo, a delightful Spanish girl who’d been a sixth year prefect in Harry’s first year. She’d been the one to guide him around the castle, help him acclimate, and assist him with homework on occasion. He’d been thrilled when she had been made Head Girl.

“Jessica, it is lovely to see you again,” he said warmly.

She cupped his cheek with one hand. “You too, Harry. You’re all grown up now. I see your picture in the paper all the time.”

He found himself blushing. “Just trying to do my part.”

“Keep up the good work.”

“I will. You look great.”

“Thanks!”

“Okay, enough chatter,” Madeline Fitzjean said, checking her watch. “We’re already starting late.”

Draco offered Maddy his arm. Harry did the same for Jessica. Sam and Lizzy Archer went first, then Reny and Heather.

The ceremony itself was not dissimilar to the Muggle ceremony. Harry walked down the aisle with a radiant Jessica. When they got to the top, they split apart and went to either side. Harry took his place next to Reny. Moments later they were joined by Draco. Then came Lynn Fawcett, the Maid of Honour, in a stunning purple dress.

If Lynn was stunning, Bridget looked astounding. Her gown was the most pure white silk, ruffled and layered, with hundreds of diamonds glittering brilliantly in patterns Harry recognized as runes of blessing, protection, and fertility. She wore a gauzy veil attached to a diamond-encrusted circlet.

She held her father’s arm as she walked down the aisle. He looked sharp in a formal robe. When they had reached the front, Elan shook his hand. Bridget’s father passed him her hand and sat down. Elan and Bridget turned to face the pastor.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love of Elan and Bridget. They have asked you all to bear witness as they exchange vows of matrimony. Marriage is a most serious commitment not to be entered into lightly. That you have come so far and have so many friends and loved ones supporting you here today tells me that if you two were a bad idea, at least one of them would have told you so.”

The pastor paused and glanced around at the crowd. “You would, yes?”

“Yeah,” came a few scattered replies.

“Good!” the pastor said with relief. “I know it’s a bit early to be asking for objections, but I think it’s important to get these things dealt with before you go through with the ceremony.”

That line got some chuckles.

“Elan and Bridget, today is the winter solstice. It is the shortest day of the year, and each progressive day will bring more and more light to the day just as your love will grow day by day and bring more light to your lives.”

The first reading was a Bible passage. “Ecclesiastes chapter Four, verses nine through eleven. ‘Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work. If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?’”

Harry thought back to the times he’d lain down with Tracy. She’d fit perfectly into the crook of his arm, with her arm draped across his chest and her head on his shoulder. They’d been warm and snuggly, and he’d been content, at peace. It was his new favourite sensation.

The second reading was an excerpt from one of Merlin’s journals. “In all the world of space and time, there are people beyond counting. To find one compatible with one’s self in any great degree is more difficult than the needle in the hayfield. Should you find one, never lose her. A true companion on life’s journey is truly a precious thing, a rose in winter. Love is the greatest magic of all.”

One needed to find a friend who could grow into a lover. Harry had been worried about losing Tracy’s friendship by risking a relationship, but now he understood that it was only by taking that risk that they could evolve into more.

The pastor began to speak. “In the first letter of the apostle Paul to the people of Corinth, he writes that love is patient and kind. Love is not envious, doesn’t boast, and isn’t proud. It does not dishonour others, is not self-serving, and is not easily angered. Love keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

He paused. “Love never fails. True love can conquer anything. Love is the most powerful force in the universe. Love is so profound that the ancient Greeks had four different words for it. Philia means the love between friends and community. Storge is the love between parents and children. Agápe is the Divine Love, what led our God to take human form and suffer as a human in order to purge the sins of our ancestors and bring us into a new covenant, a new relationship with Him. Lastly there is Éros, the love between husband and wife. What may start with physical attraction eventually blooms into appreciation of the soul and every fibre of each other’s being. Elan and Bridget, your two hearts will soon beat as one heart. What affects one will affect both. When one is not in harmony, neither will the other be.”

When Elan and Bridget had been declared husband and wife, they had a snog that set the congregation to cheering.

The pastor raised his arms wide. “Let me introduce you to Mister and Missus Elan and Bridget Malfoy!”

The recessional began to play, and the bride and groom turned to face the crowd. They waved a bit before they headed for the doors, the wedding party filing out orderly after them.

The reception was held immediately afterward. There was much dancing and celebrating. The banquet was superb. The happy couple sat at a private table with only the best man and maid of honor. The rest of the wedding party was spread out so that friends could be with friends.

Madeline Fitzjean, Draco’s escort, caught the bouquet. Reny caught the garter. He hammed it up as he slipped it up her leg, “accidentally” putting it on the wrong leg. He slid it back off slowly and teasingly before he put it on the correct leg. He took his sweet time again, and Maddy was giggling madly. She seemed to be ticklish.

Harry glanced over at Tracy. She was watching Maddy with stars in her eyes. He looked away from Maddy and Reny to the happy couple. He had wondered about his parents' wedding after Remus'; now he was wondering about his own. When he tried to picture the bride, he wasn't sure what to come up with.

Tracy sighed. “It’s all so beautiful.”

“Yeah, it was pretty good. I wonder what ours will be like.”

Her eyes widened. “Harry, I-”

“Oh!” His face began to burn as he realized what he’d implied. “No, I only meant that we’re going to get married someday, and-” he broke off again. “No, that’s coming out wrong. Argh!”

Tracy had recovered. “I understand. We’re both going to have weddings someday, and you wonder how they will compare and contrast with the ones in which you’ve played a part.”

“Yes!” he said gratefully. His tongue had gotten all twisted up, because he’d actually  _ been _ pondering what it would be like to marry Tracy. He still felt like they should give their relationship a second chance.


	22. Inheritance

**** Remus Lupin had never been happier. It was an unfamiliar sensation for him. He hadn’t been happy since his friends James and Lily had been murdered by Voldemort, supposedly betrayed by Sirius. Sirius had then supposedly murdered Peter, and he’d gone to Azkaban. Remus had been left alone in the world. He’d spent ten years in a bottle, trying to drown his sorrow, grief, and madness.

Then Sirius had escaped and proven his innocence by capturing Peter, who had been turned over to the dementors for the Kiss. Watching that bit of justice had turned Remus’ stomach, but it had quieted some of his nightmares. He dreamed about that cursed Halloween less frequently. Helping Sirius reclaim his family home from Darkness had done wonders, as had spending time with Harry.

It still amazed him how near-identically Harry looked like James. The messy hair and facial structure were a step back in time for Remus. Those eyes, though, were exactly like Lily’s. Remus had spent a lot of time with Lily on prefect business, and she could convey a whole range of emotion without saying a word. Just one look into her eyes, and one knew whether she was about to kiss or explode and everything in between.

Harry’s personality was an interesting mix of James and Lily. On the one hand, the boy was arrogant, but on the other he was inspiring. He could be mean, but he could be gentle and tender. He was definitely a leader, and he could domineer any of his housemates if and when he chose.

He’d also forged himself a family with nothing more than sheer willpower. It had started with Sirius and Remus, the last of his parents’ friends. He’d added the Malfoys and the Tonkses, healing the breach between the Black sisters. Now Nymphadora Tonks was Remus’ wife, and he was officially a part of the family as well.

Remus was looking forward to his first Christmas as a married man. Christmas had always been a special time for him as a child, even after being bitten by Fenrir Greyback. He remembered making cookies with his mum and setting up the tree with his dad. He basked in the love of his family and wished that he might have it himself some day. As he’d grown older, those hopes had faded. He’d never thought he could be this happy, never thought this was for him. Now against all the odds, he had found it. He was still not certain he deserved it. He just hoped he could continue to make her happy.

A few days after Harry and Theo came home from school was the full moon. Theo spent the night at Malfoy Manor while Chitter, Padfoot, and Moony ran through Number Twelve. Moony had been much more tractable during the last moon, and he felt similarly mellow that night, despite not taking any Wolfsbane Potion. While it had helped to be with Sirius again, and adding Harry made up for the loss of James, his present respite from the madness within was unprecedented.

The only thing that had changed was his marriage to Tonks. She had changed her name officially to Tonks Black Lupin, and he thought it was utterly cute that she had three last names. Perhaps the pastor at Elan and Bridget’s wedding had been right when he called love the most powerful force in the universe. Tonks loved all of him, even the wolf.

Telling her about the wolf had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, her voice analytical. “My cousin and two other boys figured out that you were a werewolf, discovered that animals aren’t affected by the Bite, and learned how to become Animagi, all to keep you company during your lunacy?”

“Yes, they did.”

She hugged him tightly. “That’s friendship and loyalty worthy of Hufflepuff!”

“It still amazes me.”

“I can never be with you in that way,” she said sadly. “My gift is changing into other humans and humanoids. I can do some pretty amazing things on the surface, but underneath it is still just me.”

“Having two magical gifts wouldn’t be too fair, would it?” he teased her gently.

“It just wouldn’t do,” she agreed. “We Hufflepuffs are all about fairness.”

He looked deeply into her eyes, which were shifting from purple to blue to green and back. “I think you have an amazing gift.”

She kissed him. “I can be any girl you want.”

He recognized the trap and neatly avoided it. “I just want you.”

She kissed him again. “I can look any way you want me to look.”

“You never have any damage from colouring your hair,” he realized. “I might have to think about this. You know, I never dated a girl with black hair. Always wanted to, and now I can be married to one.”

She had finished changing her hair before he had finished speaking. She gave him a cheeky grin. “What do you think?”

“Looks okay,” he said, teasing her again.

She glared at him, and he suddenly shivered.

“What is it?” she said with concern, forgetting her irritation.

He took a deep breath. “You didn’t look like you for a moment. You looked like  _ her _ .”

“Oh.” The black colour fled from her hair, turning a brilliant blonde. “Better?”

“Much. Sorry to make that comparison, but you do have strong family features.”

“The joys of inbreeding,” she said sourly.

Remus hugged her close to him. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezed him back. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who did the change.”

“I think I can safely leave black-haired snog off my list.”  _ I’m going to have nightmares, I just know it. _

“I can change my face a bit,” she offered.

_ What have I done to deserve this wonderful woman in my life?  _ “Really, it’s okay, Dora.”

She glared at him again. “Who are you talking to? I don’t know anyone of that name.”

He smiled easily. “Yes, dear.”

* * *

 

It was Christmas Eve Day, and the day was spent recovering. 

Harry had missed his midnight runnings with the Marauders. They were three now, and it was good. Harry had studied the properties of numbers and knew that three was powerful. The first geometric shape was formed from three points, was three-sided, called a  _ tri- _ angle. It was the first to have Area. Professor Vector had spent nearly two weeks on it back in third year. Three Marauders meant they had Area, and their mischief could multiply.

Harry spent most of the day in the sitting room by the fireplace. He had a book that he’d been meaning to read. He was just cognisant enough to comprehend, and he turned a page every so often. Sirius and Remus were no better than Harry. They all lounged languidly in magnificent armchairs that had floating hassocks to elevate the feet. Tonks was working, so the Marauders were left to their own devices.

“Where’s Theo?” Sirius wondered. “We didn’t see him at breakfast.”

“Kreacher made the Nott boy breakfast very early, Master,” Kreacher croaked, serving hot chocolate all around.

“He’s probably up in the training room fighting against the dummies,” Harry answered. “He was up to three of them at once the other day.”

“That boy is too eager to die.” Remus sounded worried.

“That’s a bit extreme to say,” Sirius pointed out.

“I mean it. I want you to be careful about him, Harry. He’s a boiling cauldron ready to melt down.”

“I’ve been trying to help him,” Harry said despairingly. “All he ever wants to do is train for war. Even I take a break every so often. He’s crackers.”

“I’ll try talking to him,” Sirius offered. “He’s been through a really rough patch.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think the problem is. He’s been through too much and now he’s gone off the deep end.”

“Then we’ll fish him out.”

“Maybe I should try dunking him in the pond,” Harry mused. “Cool off that anger of his.”

“I don’t recommend it,” Remus advised. “He might take it the wrong way.”

“He’s up before dawn and gets in a session and shower before breakfast,” Harry reported. “I sometimes join him, but I need my sleep.”

“That’s good of you to recognize,” Sirius said. “Sleeping is something I’ve started to enjoy again.”

“Please keep an eye on him, Harry. That’s all.” Remus changed the subject. “Speaking of things you used to enjoy, Sirius, did you ever go out with Rita’s niece? What was her name? Kristen? Crystal?”

Sirius scowled. “Kristy. No, I’ve been busy.”

“Sirius Black too busy to date a pretty girl,” Harry chortled. “Moony, do you believe what you’re hearing?”

“It’s utter bollocks,” Remus declared. “He once had three dates on the same day.”

“Remus!” Sirius protested in hurt tones.

“You did! You went out with Rebecca at Hogsmeade in the morning, then Jenny in the afternoon, then Jane in the evening. The fun part was watching you try to extricate yourself from Jenny. She wanted the date to keep going. I wonder what Jane would have said if you’d brought her along.”

Sirius chuckled. “Good thing we never found out. Do you remember the time in fifth year we brewed Polyjuice Potion and helped James take out the seventh year Ravenclaw girls?”

Remus choked. “Oh yes! James had gotten each girl alone and asked her out. Boyfriend or not, James could get just about any girl to say yes to him for one single date. Well, he got them all to agree to have lunch with him in Hogsmeade. We timed it so that we each walked in immediately after one another. They were quite surprised, let me tell you.”

“Here’s the beautiful part,” Sirius said through his laughter. “James walked in alone and sat with all four of them.”

And so it went for the rest of the day. Harry ended up falling asleep in his chair, his book long since closed. He had a most delightful nap that lasted until Tonks came home. She tripped on her way into the room and wound up sprawled across Sirius’ lap.

“Hiya, Nym,” he said giving her a sleepy hug. “Welcome home.”

“You don’t get to call me that,” she said reflexively.

“I’m head of the family. I can do anything I want.”

“Look,” she said pointing to the family tree. “My name is Tonks Black Lupin. I changed it legally and magically.”

“Sure you did,” Sirius said, patting her on the head. “But I changed your nappies.”

She glared at him. “Stop treating me like some dumb kid. I’m a married woman!”

“Okay, Nym.”

“I thought my mother had so much better taste,” Tonks said as she took Remus upstairs.

Harry felt better after his nap, but he still wasn’t up for much. He went back to his book until dinner, whereafter he laid down in bed. He fell asleep again.

When he woke again, the house was dark and still. The only light was from the Christmas tree in the hall. Everyone else was asleep.

He realized that he wasn’t going to get any more sleep for awhile. He shoved his feet into his slippers, pulled on his dressing gown, and Apparated down to the kitchen. Kreacher had left a pot of mulled cider over a warming flame. Harry took a mug and went up to sit by the fire again, which he stirred up and added wood.

In the morning they would rise and exchange presents and feast. It felt wrong to Harry somehow. It was because of Laine, he knew. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the Christmas, just wrong that Laine wasn’t alive to share in it. Harry wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to spend any time with her over the holiday if she’d lived, but they could have tried. 

Pansy had tried. She had really tried to distract him. For a few moments, he had even been able to let himself go and have fun. But it wasn’t how things were supposed to be.

The fire crackled, and a log split apart. The flames danced higher.

In a few days there would be a wedding, and Harry would have to put on a mask and pretend that all was well. He’d tell people he was fine, but he really wasn’t overly happy.

He stayed there for several hours. At last his eyes began to droop, and he made his way to his bedroom.

* * *

 

On Christmas morning, Harry opened his eyes early. After years of having Christmas mean only being locked in the cupboard while Dudley opened presents, half of which would be broken within a week, he was delighted to be getting gifts from people who genuinely loved him. He was even more pleased to be in a position to give gifts to people he loved.

He performed his morning ablutions and headed downstairs, following his nose. The smell of bacon frying filled the house. The dining room table was loaded with food. Harry grabbed a cinnamon bun and licked frosting off his fingers. Kreacher filled his plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and beans.

“Thanks, Kreacher.”

The elf bowed low. “Kreacher is honoured to serve.”

“Happy Christmas to you.”

“Thank you, Master,” the elf said in his gurgling voice.

Harry wasn’t sure if elves celebrated Christmas, but they did give presents. Kreacher had given Harry a dozen each of a dozen kind of cookies. Sirius received a seven-tiered cake where each tier was a seven-layer cake. Kreacher seemed to like numbers.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” Harry said. “This is for you from me.”

Kreacher began to tremble and shake as he accepted the present. He opened it and found a Muggle cookbook. Sirius gave him a framed picture of Regulus.

The best gift Harry received was far more special than anything bought in a store. When he opened the box, he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. He recognized them immediately from the many pictures and pensieve memories he’d seen.

“Mum and dad’s wands,” he whispered, as though saying it out loud would make it untrue.

“Yes,” Sirius confirmed.

Harry stared at the wands in silence for a moment. Willow and mahogany. Light and dark wood.

“Tell me about the night you found them.”

Sirius had previously told him that he had arrived at the house to find it destroyed. He’d glossed over the fine details, moving quickly to the point where he’d encountered Hagrid. He’d let Hagrid take Harry and gone off looking for Peter’s blood, something he’d cursed himself for doing.

“I tried to call James on the mirror. He didn’t answer. That wasn’t too unusual. He might have been helping Lily give you a bath or any of a dozen other things. I called again later, but he still didn’t answer. I started to get a very bad feeling. When he still didn’t answer an hour later, I knew something had gone wrong. I hopped on the motorbike and went straight to Godric’s Hollow.”

Harry felt dread rising as Sirius spoke. His godfather’s voice was so flat, empty, yet filled with pain. It was old pain, scabbed and scarred.

“I could tell as I approached that something was wrong. I could see the smoke rising in the clear morning sky. I knew I was too late. I found James lying on the floor in the front hall. He was dead. My best friend, my brother. We’d trusted in a traitor. Our brother Peter had betrayed us. My heart broke in a million pieces. I crumpled to the floor next to him, sobbing and apologizing.”

Harry could see it in his mind’s eye. He’d heard everything from Voldemort’s arrival to his backfired Killing Curse when faced with a dementor. He had dreamed vividly of that night, and it was from his dreams that he now drew his mental images.

“When I finally ran out of tears, I sat there, not moving. Then I heard you crying. I might have been struck by lightning, and I bolted upstairs. I found Lily on the floor in front of your crib. She had one arm reaching for you, even in death.”

Harry choked, tears coursing down his cheeks. He wished that he could tell his mother that he loved her.

“You stopped crying as soon as you saw me. You had a trickle of blood running down your forehead, and I wiped it away. You pointed to her and said, ‘Pa-foot, Mama,’ and I just lost it again.” Sirius was crying freely now. “I picked you up, sat in a chair, and completely failed to hold it together as I tried to explain it to you.”

Harry moved to give his godfather a hug. He didn’t know what to say.

“I eventually ran out of words, and you had gone to sleep again, so I put you down in the crib while I went out for a breath of fresh air. I was trying to think, trying to make a plan for what I was going to do. I’d been on the move already. Death Eaters attacked my flat, so I didn’t have a proper house anymore. I had no place to take you. Your grandparents had died by this time, and your grandfather had sold off almost all of the family properties to help with the war effort. All that was left was that cozy house in Godric’s Hollow.”

“We used to have a lot of houses?”

“At least a dozen. James and I used to go to this one place on the Swedish coast during the summer and cause all kinds of mischief. There were a lot of very pretty local girls. He had a thing for blondes. We didn’t speak much of the language, but we got by.”

Harry shook his head. “So you went for some fresh air?”

“I took a walk around the house. Not long after that, Hagrid arrived. I got back just as he was coming out of the house with you. He thought I’d just gotten there, and I saw no need to correct him. I told him that your parents had wanted me to raise you. He argued with me, and I realized that this would solve my immediate problem. You would be safe at your aunt’s house until I could come get you. I let him take you, believing it to be the best thing for you. I thought I would be able to find Peter and capture him, kill him, whatever, without too much trouble. Then I would find a house, make it safe for you, and collect you from your aunt forthwith.”

“Only it didn’t work out that way.”

“I never dreamed Peter would get the best of me. I should have realized that anyone able to conceal his true nature from his best friends might have been hiding other things as well, such as magical skill. He deflected some of my best spells, and yelled his lies for the whole street to hear. Then he cut off his finger and blew up the street.”

“I wish it had gone according to plan,” Harry said.

“There wasn’t much of a plan,” Sirius admitted. “Maybe I should have taken a Slytherin along.”

Harry grinned for a moment. “Probably.”

Sirius sighed. “Well, I think you know what happened then. Aurors came and arrested me, I got shipped to Azkaban without a trial, and you stayed with your aunt for a lot longer than you should have.”

“Talk about bad luck.” Harry couldn’t think of many people who could say they’d had a harder time.

“Yeah, we got hit pretty hard, but we’re back now. We’re not going to let that evil bastard win.”

Harry nodded several times. “So someone obviously came and took care of the- the bodies. Did they take their wands too?”

“Yes,” said Sirius. “It wasn’t easy to track down what had happened to them, but I found them in the museum on exhibit.”

Harry hesitated a moment. “They were not.”  _ Please, Merlin, tell me there isn’t a museum. _

Sirius nodded. “They were. Honest. The Potter exhibit is very well-visited.”

Harry didn’t want to believe him. “You’re having me on. I’ve never heard of any museum.”

“Everyone probably assumed you knew about it.”

Harry didn’t want to accept that argument, but he knew the list of things people assumed he knew about was as long as a giant’s arm.

The willow wand was the better match for his wand hand, but Harry noticed as he shifted the mahogany wand to his left hand that it tingled similar to the way his wand had done in Ollivander’s. He flicked the wand at his paperweight and turned it into a kitten.

“Wow,” Harry said. “I don’t even think my phoenix wand is that easy.”

Sirius clapped his hands together admiringly. “James was a natural at Transfiguration.”

Harry studied the wand with wonder. “That’s what Mister Ollivander said. He said that this wand was good for Transfiguration.”

“Try your mum’s,” Sirius urged.

Harry thought about seeing his parents in the pensieve and feeling their love as they gazed down into his cradle.

“ _ Expecto patronum! _ ”

The stag was solid, and bigger than normal it seemed. Again, this spell was very easy to cast.

“He said it was good for Charms.” Harry’s voice was hushed.

“Was he right?” Sirius said, just as quietly.

“I think so.”

They admired Prongs for several long moments, and Prongs enjoyed being admired. He strutted around the room before finally disintegrating into a puff of silver mist.

Sirius shook himself back to the conversation. “Now, two-wanded duelling isn’t something very common, even on the professional duelling circuit. Fortunately while I was at the Auror office the other day, I met a Buddhist ninja who just happens to be visiting, and he agreed to help us. He will teach you everything there is to know about wielding two weapons over the next week.”

“A ninja?” Harry repeated skeptically. “Sirius, I think you’re having me on again.”

“Maybe it was a samurai.” Sirius’ lips twitched slightly. “I didn’t really catch all that much, to be honest.”

Harry gave Sirius his best Professor Snape stare. “You’re still having me on.”

Sirius cracked up laughing. “Of course I am. What does a Buddhist know about fighting?”

Harry had seen and heard snatches of martial arts movies while growing up -- since Dudley watched them to learn how to beat people up, Harry figured he should know a little bit about them. “Actually, a lot, if you can believe the movies.”

Sirius laughed anew with fresh peals. “Which you can’t.”

Harry knew he would throw himself into learning two-wanded combat with the same ferocity he had shown toward all his training. Magic could be cast as quick as thought, so the only real advantage in using two wands was that different wands were better suited to different types of magic.

Neville had two wands now. His dad’s wand had never worked well for him, but maybe it would work better in his off-hand. It was worth investigating. Harry wondered if he’d ever tried his mum’s wand. From everything Neville had said about his Gran, Harry wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t.

How could he learn to fight with two wands? Surely it had been done before. Surely some ambitious wizard had tried it, out of sheer curiosity if nothing else. Perhaps there was some famous wizard in history who had written a book about techniques, or some scrolls, at the least, showing motions and forms. He would have to consult with Professor Montague when he returned to Hogwarts.

And if there were no examples in history to draw on, he’d just have to make it up as he went. Other wizards crafted spells and potions, new wand movements and ingredients. Harry would create a new form of fighting if he had to.

As soon as he decided on a backup plan, Harry discarded the initial plan. The backup plan was better, more immediate. He could build on what he already knew and was learning. He would simply incorporate the alternate wands into his training. He also knew that he didn’t want to even show them outside the boundaries of the Order of the Basilisk.

After presents had been opened, Harry took a nap. He woke up a few hours later when it was time for Christmas dinner with the whole clan. The whole clan, that is, minus Tonks. She was stuck working the holiday because she was still fairly low on the seniority list. She was able to dash in for a quick bite at a few points during the day. She was able to have some goose, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, as well as several slices of pie. Normally Aurors who were working would bring their partner along to a big meal, but things were not normal.

Elan and Bridget were there. They were leaving for their honeymoon the day after Christmas. The idea of missing her first Christmas with her new family was horrifying to Bridget. Elan was quiet, and he seemed to have a perpetually startled expression on his face. They held hands, even through most of the meal.

Unlike other recent family gatherings, nobody had any shattering announcements. It was a jovial affair, but a rather mundane one. Harry found he quite liked it.

* * *

 

Tracy stayed strong on the train ride from school. She’d bantered with Pansy as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Nevermind that the thought of her watching while Harry and Tracy snogged was stomach-turning. Nevermind that she’d rather gouge her own eyes out than watch Pansy snog Harry. Knowing they’d done it was hard enough. Seeing it happen right there on the platform was unbearable.

Thankfully Jamie was there and they were able to leave. She gave Harry a slight wave but didn’t see if he would respond. They waited patiently for the Apparition point to clear up and headed home.

Tracy asked, “How long have you got off?” 

“Amazingly enough, the entire holiday,” Jamie gushed. “Madam Pomfrey is staying at the castle this year and she said I deserved the time with my family. She’s such a slave driver. So gifted, though. I can’t believe I get to earn my Mastery under her.”

“How are the private lessons with Slughorn bearing up?” Tracy thought their new Potions Master was absolutely stellar, and she would give a lot to have the same opportunity Jamie now had. The man was almost a living legend.

“I really hate to say it,” Jamie said, dropping her voice to a whisper, “but I wish we’d had him instead of Professor Snape. Snape’s brilliant, of course, but Horace makes it so accessible.”

“Horace?” Tracy said with a sly look.

Jamie smirked. “He asked me to call him Horace. He said we were colleagues and that formalities were unnecessary between colleagues.”

_ Colleagues! So lucky!  _ “He certainly does have a different style about him. I like Snape’s classroom manner, but I can see how some people don’t do the best with it.”

Jamie giggled. “That is a vast understatement.” 

Tracy changed the subject. “How are things with Abraham?”

“That’s Professor Montague to you,” Jamie said with mock seriousness. “Things are going well, if slowly. I don’t have much time, as I may have mentioned, and he’s always doing research for that book of his.”

They had reached the Apparition point by now and they quickly popped home. Tracy tossed her cloak on the hook and sent her bag up to her room with a wave of her wand.

Jamie turned the subject around. “So how are things with Harry? I’m paying him extra attention like you asked me to. Want to tell me what that’s about?”

Tracy sighed. “I worry about him. He was pulled in a dozen different directions last year. He fell apart after Laine died, and despite this brave face he shows everyone, I know better. He’s barely keeping it together. Now Pansy’s throwing herself at him, and I don’t think he can deal with her.”

“Is she serious about him?”

Tracy shrugged. “It’s Pansy. Who can ever tell with her? She changes moods as often as she changes her hairstyle. I know he’s her friend, but what she might decide her friend needs is entirely unpredictable.”

“About that. Are you still still making yourself available to Harry?”

“As often as I can.”  _ If only he’d take me up on it.  _ “He actually asked me out again if you can believe that.”

Jamie boggled. “And you didn’t say yes? Little sister, don’t you have an ounce of sense?”

Tracy tried to feel confident in her decision. “He didn’t really mean it. He’s still trying to deal with Laine. I want him over her before I go out with him again.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Looks like Pansy’s not waiting.”

Tracy groaned, finally free to express her complete and utter exasperation with Slytherin’s queen. “She snogs half the boys in Slytherin at one party and somehow that’s acceptable, but I find one boy I like and I’m the weird one.”

“Don’t let Parkin-slag win,” Jamie said. “If Harry wants to snog her a few times to help get over Laine, that’s fine. He’s been doing that with you too. Let her have him. Don’t let her keep him.”

That was the crux of Tracy’s angst. “How?”

Jamie thought hard for a moment, tapping her nose with her index finger, wrinkling her forehead in thought. “Go to him when you have a chance and tell him you changed your mind. You’re a witch. That’s your prerogative.”

_ Could it really be that easy? _ “Will that really work? I turned him down. Do I get to take that back?”

“Sure,” Jamie said casually. “You could also just ask him out. It’s a little unconventional, but with Harry it might be necessary.”

Tracy immediately scoffed, “I couldn’t ask out Harry.”

“Why not?” Jamie asked pointedly. She folded her arms. “Tracy Aliza, you are more than capable of asking out any boy in the world. I know you are. Why do you think you can’t? Let your big sister tell you how wrong you are.”

Tracy quailed, imagining walking up to Harry and asking him to be her boyfriend. “I don’t think I could get the words out.”

Jamie was giving her  _ that _ look. “You offered to sleep with him, but you can’t ask him to be your boyfriend.”

“Sweet baby Merlin, I do sound like a slag!” Tracy wailed. Hearing someone else say it out loud made it seem so tawdry.

Jamie shook her head. “Do it if you have to, but make sure he says yes before you do.”

* * *

 

On the first day of the new year, Harry was nursing a hangover while trying to appreciate a delicious breakfast prepared by Kreacher when a large barn owl flew in. It dropped a letter beside his plate and swooped out again as Harry blearily tried to understand what had happened.

"Expecting something?" Sirius asked, barely interested.

"No." Harry picked it up cautiously. He drew his wand and cast several Dark magic detection spells on it. It didn’t appear to have any magic on it at all. He picked it up and slit the envelope with his thumbnail. The letter was written in an untidy hand. “It’s from Lord Dumpling. He says they’ve decided to accept the contract.” 

"That's wonderful," Sirius said. "How do you get back in touch with them?"

Harry looked at the letter again. “We’re invited back to Saturgos today for the signing. We just go back to that same place and we’ll be met.”

“Today?” yelped Sirius.

“Yeah,” Harry said, engrossed in the parchment. “Evidently they want to get right to work.”

Sirius shook off his shock. “Well that’s industrious of them.”

"Should we take Mister Malfoy along again?" Harry wondered.

"Yes," Sirius said. "Dwarfs are very firm about contracts. They'll expect the same makeup again."

Harry was confused. "I thought I was the one signing."

"You are. But Lucius was the one who first made contact with them, and they’ll expect him to be there as the facilitator.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Harry, Sirius, and Lucius Apparated directly to Knockturn Alley. Harry needed to be Side-Alonged, because he didn’t know any place in the dark alley well enough to try going there. They were again met by a dwarf, who led them through the same tunnel into the city. Though he was now seeing it for the second time, Harry was no less impressed with the dwarf city. He did his best to soak in the details, knowing he would want to watch this memory in the pensieve.

Lord Dumpling was waiting for them in the guild hall with many members also in attendance, all wearing ceremonial garb. There came the most exquisite music that Harry had ever heard, a perfect cascading waterfall of notes, that splashed up and down and chilled Harry to his very core. He felt truly blessed to be able to experience this moment.

At last the music subsided, and Lord Dumpling raised his hands wide. "Harry Potter," he said formally. "We accept your contract."

At his words, a pair of dwarfs carried forth two great stone tablets. Harry saw that words had been chiseled into them, one in English and one in Dwarf runes. They set the tablets on the table and bowed before withdrawing.

Another dwarf brought out a gilded box. He opened it and presented it to Harry. Inside were two of those strange dwarfen wands with gemstones at the tip. These were clear and could be quartz, diamond, or a dozen other stones.

“The instruments of signing,” Lord Dumpling declared, taking one wand for himself. He pointed it at the first tablet and muttered something decidedly not in English. There was a beam of white light that lasted for several moments. When it faded, Lord Dumpling’s signature was clearly visible in the stone.

“Wow,” Harry said. “Tally, but there’s no way I can pronounce that spell.”

“Let your magic flow through you,” Sirius said. “You know what you want to do. Command your magic to make it happen.”

The wand felt completely alien in his hand. The gemstone in the tip threw the weight all off. It needed counter-balance in the handle. There was probably a reason for it. Harry summoned all of his will and twitched the strange wand. With that same beam of light, Harry’s messy signature joined Dumpling’s.

They repeated the process on the other tablet, and then it was done.

“The contract is made!” Lord Dumpling proclaimed. “Let the work begin.”

A group of dwarfs in the hall strapped on their helmets and picked up their pick-axes. “We go to begin our work, Master Miner,” the foreman said.

He raised his hands in benediction. “Work hard but safely. May you all come home.”

“Great Miner willing,” they responded together.

The team left to start their shift.

“May the rock be yielding," Harry said.

Lord Dumpling bowed formally.  "May your pick be sharp, Harry Potter." 

 


	23. Murder Was The Case

Tracy wasted no time in seeking out Harry on the train platform. She’d arrived early with Jamie and had stowed her trunk in the last car, sealing the door with advanced Arithmancy so that only sixth and fifth year Slytherins could open it. She locked the next two doors as well, claiming a whole section for her group of friends. It would unfortunately also let in Blaise Zabini, as he fit the criteria. She would just have to keep an eye out for him and redirect him to the front of the train. The compartments secure, or close enough, she hopped off the train and returned to the Apparition point to wait for Harry to arrive.

She didn’t have to wait long. Harry and Sirius arrived early as well. She watched as they parted ways and set off toward Harry at a casual walk.

“Harry! Over here.” She waved to garner his attention. His face lit up when he saw her, and her stomach began doing flip-flops.  _ How am I ever going to go through with this? _

“Hi, Tracy.” He gave her a hug.

He was freshly showered. She could see his hair was still wet. Her hands twitched with the urge to try to make it less messy. “Good Christmas?”

He smiled, and he seemed very at peace. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” Tracy grinned. “Would you believe I actually missed the boring adult Christmas party this year? Normally we kids would do nothing but complain about having to put on fancy clothes and be on our best behaviour, even if we did get to stay out late. This year I was desperate for somewhere to go.”

“We just had a family dinner,” Harry said, and she was amazed at how natural the phrase sounded coming out of his mouth. “The Malfoys and Tonkses and Lupins were there, and Theo.”

She was so happy for him she could barely contain herself. “That’s quite a gathering. How was it?”

Harry was practically glowing. “It was incredible. Last year was great, but this year was even better. The family has gotten bigger.” He looked like he was about to say something but changed his mind. “You?”

Tracy shrugged. “It was pretty quiet. I got to spend some time with Jamie, which was nice. She had a lot of things to do at Saint Mungo’s, but I still got to see her. Heard from anyone else? Pansy been bombarding you with mash notes?”

Harry laughed. “No, I haven’t really heard from anyone aside from Christmas gifts. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and thank you.”

“Does that satisfy courtesy?” he demanded.

Tracy giggled. “If not, we can always pretend otherwise if anyone asks.”

“I’ll never tell.”

Tracy smiled at him again. She just couldn’t help it.  _ There is no way he can know how adorable he really is.  _ “So what  _ is _ going on with you and Pansy? All of a sudden you two are pretty blatant.”

“I’m not really sure,” he confessed, getting a bit red in the cheeks. “I’m having fun, but I’m confused. It is rather abrupt.”

_ It certainly is.  _ “What exactly did you two get up to the night of Slughorn’s party?” She found herself morbidly curious. “That’s where it seems to have started.”

Harry thought for a moment. “This is going to sound horrid, but,” he paused, “she offered.”

Tracy couldn’t believe she’d heard correctly. “She offered?”

“She asked me if I wanted to snog.” He was completely blushing now. “I couldn’t think of a good reason not to.”

All Tracy could think to say was, “No, I can see why not.”

He must have heard something in her inflection, because he hastily looked at her. “It was different than it is with you, Tracy. I can’t really explain it, and I don’t think I should try.”

“When did you get so wise?” she asked rhetorically. “I admit it was jarring when you two were locking lips, but I turned you down. I’m glad, because she might have thrown herself at you anyway, and then you’d feel guilty about cheating on me.”

He opened his mouth to protest but sighed ruefully. “You know me well.”

_ I certainly do, better than you know yourself.  _ “Do you see anything more happening with her?”

“More than kissing and such?” Harry took a moment to consider a future with the pureblood princess. “Not really. I think Pansy’s a great girl, but I don’t know if I could be married to her.”

_ Oh really?  _ “You’ve thought about it?” she said.

Harry nodded. “Just now, yeah.”

“Ever thought about us?” She couldn’t help herself from asking, and she cursed her loose tongue.

Harry didn’t even flinch at the sensitive question. “Many times,” he said with a nod.

Now she was even more curious. “And?”

“And I could see it.” He squeezed her hand. “I think you’re a stellar girl, Tracy. That’s why I asked you out again.”

_ Okay. Now or never.  _ “Do you still want to?”

He grew confused. “You said no,” he said hesitantly.

“That was last year,” she said dismissively, hoping she sounded convincing. “My new year’s resolution is to have the courage to act on my ambitions. I know I said no. Now I’m asking you. Harry Potter, do you want to be my boyfriend?”

He didn’t hesitate a moment. “Yes.”

With that simple word, she threw herself into his arms and glued their lips together. She’d waited three long years to be with him, and her patience had paid off.

_ Victory is mine. _

When they came up for air, they both wore exuberant grins.

She could see a dark thought cross his mind. His eyes narrowed, and the corners of his mouth turned down.

“What is it?” she asked softly.

“Now, the real question: do we tell anyone?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Tracy couldn’t wait to show the entire school that she’d gotten Harry back.

“Voldemort might target you,” he said worriedly. “He could try to get to me by threatening you.”

“I’m fairly sure we’re already targeted,” she replied dryly. “He has to know who your friends are if he has any sort of information about you at all.”

He took her hand. “But if you were more than a friend.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to be able to understand love.”

“Love?” Harry was startled. 

Tracy again rued her careless tongue.  _ This is all going to wind up pear-shaped if I don’t watch it.  _ “You know what I mean,” she said gently. “If he doesn’t understand love, then how could one of his schemes involve your loved ones?”

Harry shook his head. “He knows enough to use loved ones against us. That’s why he threatens children.”

“He’s such a monster,” Tracy said with a shudder.

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“If we don’t tell people,” she said, trying to be logical, “Pansy is going to keep after you.”

Harry frowned. “That is a problem. Maybe we can just tell her.”

Tracy tried not to laugh. “Just tell Pansy? She’ll get mad and blurt it out. You know how she is.”

Harry was forced to agree. “What I do with Pansy, it’s just kissing. You and I both know it’s not going anywhere. If you are okay with me leading her on, I’ll do my best to avoid doing that with her.”

_ I am not okay with anyone being led on, especially not me. Harry Potter, you had better not enjoy any of that necking you do with Parkin-slag.  _ “I don’t like it, but I can live with it. We are going to get caught eventually.”

He shrugged. “I know. We’ll just deal with it when we do.”

Tracy laughed. “Great plan there, Heir of Slytherin.”

He gave her a cheeky grin. “Come here and smooch me before anyone else gets here.”

* * *

After Tracy and Harry had broken up toward the end of third year, he had gone on to date other girls. She had dated several other boys. Now they had come back together. His renewed relationship with Tracy was very comforting and somewhat surreal at the same time. They already knew each other, so in one sense it was as though they had been together all this time.  

In the end, they decided to simply play things casually. They wouldn’t be going out on dates or to fancy dances, but they would sit together in class and hold hands when they could. They sat together to watch the Quidditch matches between Slytherin and Hufflepuff and between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. They had fallen back into closeness so smoothly that Harry wondered why he had ever been daft enough to break up with her in the first place.

Hufflepuff fought hard, but Ginny beat their seeker to the snitch handily. Arcen was injured in the match when Goyle couldn’t get to a bludger in time. He tried to play on, but he nearly fell off his broom, and Millie sent him off. There were no substitutions allowed, so Slytherin’s two remaining chasers were simply overwhelmed by Susan’s assault. The quaffle soared through the hoops many times just past Estrella Mendoza’s fingertips. It was a good thing Ginny caught the snitch when she did, because a few more minutes would have have put the match out of reach regardless.

Gryffindor defeated Ravenclaw. Ron Weasley was big of frame, and he’d never play seeker for a professional team, but he was good enough for Hogwarts, and good enough for a team that hadn’t been able to field a decent seeker for years at a stretch.

After the Gryffindors had made their raucous way back up to the castle, Harry and Tracy walked part of the way to Professor Slughorn’s office. It was time for another of his monthly tea sessions.

When the coast was clear, she gave him a quick kiss. “Have fun. I’ll see you later. I’m going to take care of my Runes homework.”

“Bye,” he said, squeezing her hand.

As he walked, Harry thought about what he wanted to learn from Professor Slughorn today. The man loved to share knowledge, but never too much at once. It kept Harry coming back, building their relationship, as it were. It let Slughorn brag that he “regularly had tea with Harry Potter”.

“Ah, Harry, do come in, do come in,” Professor Slughorn said jovially. “Hang up your cloak. Been out at the Quidditch match, have you?”

“Yes, sir. I hope the tea is hot.”

“Most assuredly, my boy, most assuredly.” Slughorn poured the tea. “Take a pastry.”

Harry did. It was some sort of apple cinnamon confection, and it tasted absolutely delightful.

“Never did understand the sheer fanaticism of Quidditch fans,” Slughorn commented. “Dressing up in costumes or going shirtless and painting their bodies. In the middle of winter, no less! Madness, I tell you.”

Harry had seen Muggle football fans do the same thing. "Maybe they don't feel the cold."

“I’m sure they don’t!” Slughorn agreed. “Incredibly inebriated, the lot of them. By all rights, they should be unconscious, but they buy another round. I do not comprehend.”

Harry grinned. "Do you not feel the love of the game, Professor?" 

The conversation remained light for nearly an hour. The professor told stories and bragged about people he knew. Finally Harry worked up his nerve.

“Professor, can you tell me about Peter Pettigrew? I want to understand what could make someone turn on their friends like that.”

The professor's jollity tempered rapidly. “Ah, Peter. The saddest case of all. Such a sad story.”

Harry ploughed on. “How could someone so deceitful, so treacherous, be a Gryffindor? I thought they were all about daring nerve, chivalry, and standing up for the downtrodden.”

Slughorn sipped his tea. “Do you really think that Peter was not a true Gryffindor?”

Harry had considered the matter settled: the Sorting Hat had made a mistake with that one. “I’ve listened to every song the Hat has sung, and I don’t think he much acted like the Hat says Gryffindors act.”

“It’s not necessarily about what attributes one exemplifies,” Slughorn explained, “but also about what one values. Peter valued bravery, because he himself was not brave, and he needed someone who  _ was _ to stand between him and all the evils of the world.” Slughorn shook his head. “He was a nice boy, a good boy, but he remained a boy when the war required men to make tough choices. As an educator, I felt it part of my duties to not only teach them the art of potionmaking, but also to prepare them for life beyond these walls. In his case, I’m sad to say I failed.”

“He’s paid for his bad decisions,” Harry said neutrally. “He received the Dementor’s Kiss.”

“Yes,” Slughorn said, putting his teacup down. “A horrible punishment.”

“One he deserved,” Harry said harshly. “I was glad to see it done.”

Slughorn studied Harry for a moment, amazement slowly spreading across his face. “You saw it?” he asked hesitantly.

“I did.”  _ And I’d do it again. _

Slughorn seemed to be re-evaluating Harry in light of this revelation. “What was it like?”

“It was unspeakable.” Harry sipped his tea and returned to the original subject. “I’m worried one of my friends might turn Dark during this war. If I can figure out what made Peter turn, it might help me prevent history repeating itself.”

“Well, he was never as magically talented as your father, Sirius, or even Remus,” Slughorn said, scratching his left arm. “He earned average marks. He barely scraped into many of his NEWT classes. He wasn’t a leader. He was most definitely a follower. He thought the world of your father and Sirius. He wanted to be more like them, I think. He was always agreeing with them about things. In just about any dispute, you could count on Peter to take James’ side, or Sirius’, or both. When it was between those two, he played peacemaker.”

That meshed with what Harry already knew. “From everything they’ve told me, he was a tagalong at first but eventually was accepted. I’ve heard both Sirius and Remus say that Peter was a brother to them.”

“Which makes the betrayal even more poignant, to be sure,” Slughorn said solemnly. “I never noticed any change in Peter. Rather, any behaviour abnormal for a teenage wizard I attributed to the stress of the war.”

“Which, in a way, it was,” Harry reflected.

Slughorn nodded. “Very true, Harry. Quite insightful.”

There was a slight pause in conversation. Harry feared one of his friends would turn like Peter. He was under no illusions that Slytherin’s Dark reputation did not have some basis in fact.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said at last.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more help to you, Harry,” the man said regretfully.

“You have been helpful, Professor. Thank you.” Harry checked the time and quaffed his tea. “I’m afraid I must be going. I have another appointment this evening.”

“Very good, my boy, very good!” Slughorn chortled. “Off with you then.”

Harry left Slughorn’s office and headed to the Room of Requirement to meet Neville, but Astoria pulled him aside before he could get far. “Hey, I thought you’d be interested to know that Tracy went sneaking off last night. I was in the common room, but in a dark corner, so she couldn’t see me when she went out.”

“Thanks, Tori.”

“Just now, she came back alone,” Tori continued. “She walked with you to Professor Slughorn’s office, but she didn’t come right back.”

“Okay. Keep it coming.”

“I will,” she promised.

Harry was glad Tori was keeping him current on everyone’s suspicious activities. If anyone was going to figure out that he and Tracy were back together, it would be Tori.

Neville was waiting for him inside the Order’s training room. He was not idle, using the time to his advantage. He was in the middle of demolishing a Duelling Dummy but turned when Harry entered.

_ Good situational awareness. He wasn’t even facing this direction, but he knew when the door opened. _

“What’s going on, Captain?” Neville said, not even breathing hard.

Harry took out the polished wooden case. Wordlessly he opened it and showed Neville what was inside. The other boy glanced at the wands and his eyes snapped to Harry, who nodded.

“Sirius gave them to me at Christmas. I noticed that my dad’s wand worked better in my left hand. You had to get a new wand because your dad’s didn’t work so well for you, but did you ever try to use it left-handed?”

Neville shook his head. “I’m right-handed.”

“Give it a go. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He grinned tightly. “Let me tell you some stories.”

Harry laughed loudly and waved towards the dummies. “Let’s see.”

Neville held his dad’s wand in his left hand. He stared at it for several moments before holding it above his head. A shower of coppery sparks rained down over him, and he gasped. “This never happened before!”

“Well done, Neville!” Harry cheered.

Despite this promising start, trying to cast a simple Lumos proved impossible. Neville dropped Frank’s wand several times. He swore with embarrassment, but Harry didn’t judge him, because he did no better.

Harry found that his left wrist wasn’t as limber as his right. His arm wasn’t as nimble. He could not manage to perform the wand movement correctly, and it was the easiest motion Harry knew.

They looked sheepishly at each other and laughed. “We’ll work on it,” Harry said.

“Too right we will,” Neville vowed. “My dad’s wand never did anything like that for me before. If  _ I _ can learn to use  _ it _ , then maybe we’ll finally get somewhere.”

* * *

“When last we left the tale of young Tom Riddle, he was poised on the brink of a great adventure,” Professor Dumbledore began grandiosely, “his magical education at Hogwarts. He was positively delighted to learn that he was a wizard. He declined any help on a shopping expedition to Diagon Alley. You recall that I warned him against further incidents of stealing once he arrived at school.”

Harry had a low opinion of thieves. Mundungus Fletcher was a thoroughly incorrigible man whose criminal contacts made him useful to the Order of the Phoenix, but he’d been caught stealing from Malfoy Manor and was lucky to still have his life. Dudley Dursley obviously took anything he wanted from Harry, but he also bullied other children in the neighborhood and school and threatened them into giving up their treasures. 

_ Tom Riddle behaved a lot like Dudley, actually. I doubt either one would appreciate the comparison, though. I’ll have to remember to mention it to Voldemort next time I see him. _

Dumbledore continued the tale. “On the first of September, a quiet boy in secondhand robes named Tom Riddle lined up with the other first years to be sorted. The Sorting Hat took almost no time at all to place him in Slytherin, where he soon learned that the ability to speak to snakes was a trait he shared with Salazar Slytherin himself. Knowing his ego already at that point, he can only have found satisfaction with the discovery. I do not know if he was prone to showing off this ability to his fellow Slytherins. If he was, the staff never knew of it. The boy I had seen at the orphanage was nowhere to be seen. Outwardly, he was a model student. He was courteous, a bit introverted, and hungry to learn as much as he could about magic. He was quite the adept, handsome as well, and he managed to charm almost the entire staff right from the start.”

“Hadn’t you told the other teachers what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” asked Harry. “Didn’t Headmaster Dippet have a staff meeting before term started? Don’t the teachers who go out to contact students in the Muggle world have to make some sort of a report?”

Dumbledore nodded. “I did report on the substance of my visit, but I chose not to put certain things down on paper.”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. “Why not?”

“Though he did not show any remorse while I was with him, it was possible that his visit to Diagon Alley and his first exposure to lots of magic all at once had opened his eyes. There remained the potential that he felt genuine remorse for his previous behaviour, now that he’d been cast and chastised, and was sincerely committed to changing his ways.”

_ And it’s possible Sirius is going to actually find a girl and get married, but I’m not holding my breath. _

“I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt."

Harry couldn’t stay his tongue any further. “But you still kept a close eye on him, right, sir?”

Dumbledore nodded. “I did. While I hoped he had changed, I would have been much more secure were I able to verify the fact. I gleaned but little from my watchings initially. He was ever careful in my presence, as if he felt that he had told me too much already in the rush of emotions when he’d learned he was a wizard. He could not, however, take back what he had let slip in his excitement, nor what Missus Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues.”

“Though he was a studious boy and not a Quidditch star, he was popular and charismatic. Over the years, he began to develop something of a following. Unsavory associates, you might say. Certainly you would never call them friends. The little group developed a sort of… reputation. There were the natural followers who needed a leader, the friendless, the weak, the flatterers looking for acknowledgment. This set of boys -- for they all were boys then -- was what became--"

"The Death Eaters," Harry murmured.

"Yes." Dumbledore inclined his head. "And that is what many of them became after leaving school."

Harry shivered. "But they didn't… do anything at school, did they? Did they know about the Chamber of Secrets?" 

"I cannot say whether or not they knew,” Dumbledore said. “There were a number of other incidents throughout Tom's schooling, but nothing we could pin on him, as the Muggles say."

“Didn’t Hagrid get blamed for Myrtle’s death?” Harry remembered.

“A grave injustice,” Dumbledore said, “one I am unable to do anything about.”

But one that Harry might. “I have a memory I should like to share with  _ you _ , Professor, if I am able.”

“You are certainly able, my boy,” Dumbledore said, perking up at this sudden candidness on Harry’s part.

“No, I mean it might not work,” Harry tried to clarify. “You see, Riddle's diary. It… sort of sucked me in, and I could see what he showed me. Like a film. Like a memory in a pensieve. But this would be… my memory of that memory."

Dumbledore considered the matter only a moment. "There is no reason why it should not work, if you have a memory of seeing it." 

Harry placed the tip of his wand to his temple and extracted his trip through Riddle’s frame-up of Hagrid.

“It will take about fifteen minutes, sir. There’s a long stretch of nothing in there.”

“I shall either use the time to my advantage or speed up the memory to the next point of interest.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he was going to do while Dumbledore watched the memory. He checked out the shelves and shelves of books, but gave up when he saw that most of them weren’t written in English and those that were did an awfully good job of disguising it. The curious silver instruments might have been more interesting if he’d had a clue what any of them did.

There was a sudden trill from Fawkes, and Harry turned his attention to the magnificent phoenix. “Hi there. Long time, no see.”

Fawkes sang a few more notes at him, and Harry immersed himself in the song. He must have lost track of time, because the next thing he knew, Dumbledore was stepping out of the pensieve. Harry turned away from the phoenix with some regret.

The headmaster looked very thoughtful. “Yes, this evidence might be enough to clear Hagrid’s name. Thank you, Harry. You didn’t need to do this.”

“The innocent must be exonerated,” Harry said, thinking of Sirius. “The guilty must be punished.”

“Quite right." Dumbledore turned back to the pensieve. “Memories of Riddle at Hogwarts are scarce. Of those who do not follow him, few will speak of him. They do not bother to hide their fear at his name. They know who Lord Voldemort really is. They fear the boy he was and the man he became. The little that I have been able to discover about him was learned with good old-fashioned police work.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You seem to be on a kick of Muggle phrases tonight, sir.”

“Am I?” the old wizard said absently. “Have I been unclear?”

“No, sir. I was raised by Muggles, as you will recall.”

“And you’ve made it clear to me that they mistreated you. I didn’t want to assume you would be familiar with these colloquial expressions.”

“Thank you, sir.” Harry nearly ground his teeth. He couldn’t be mad at Dumbledore both ways, as much as he wanted to be.

“But speaking of growing up, Riddle did so in an orphanage, and all of those who would speak with me said one thing about Riddle: he was absolutely driven and determined to learn who his parents were and why he had been left there. Completely natural, of course. 

"When he received his Hogwarts letter he was convinced that his father must have been some great wizard. It never occurred to him that his weak mother, who had given him up and died doing so, could have been a witch. But he found no Riddles in any reference book in the Hogwarts library, on no old school roll books. He was stymied. At last he was forced to concede the truth, that his father was not magical, and I believe he discarded his name entirely to become Lord Voldemort. 

“Now he had to begin his research anew -- a frustrating thing for any scholar -- looking instead for the name ‘Marvolo’, which he had learned from those in charge of the orphanage was his maternal grandfather’s name. At long last, after the sort of mind-numbing research that makes even me shudder away from it, Tom discovered the last line that claimed descent from Slytherin. During the holiday after fifth year, he made an excursion from the orphanage, to which he returned annually, and went to go see his Gaunt relatives.

“Now we come to the interesting portion of the evening.” He held a small crystal phial filled with swirling, pearly memory. “I was very lucky to collect this,” he said simply.

Something in the old man’s tone caught Harry’s attention. “Lucky?”

“Yes. Very.”

Luck was a hot topic this year. Michelle Holt’s portion of Felix Felicis had never been recovered, then Tracy’s had been stolen as well. Luna Lovegood’s had gone missing, but everyone knew that Cho Chang had taken it from her the night she’d won it.

“Did you have help from a friend?”

“In a manner of speaking. You will appreciate the significance of this memory after you have seen it. Are you ready?”

“Would it matter if I said no?” Harry replied cheekily.

“Yes, certainly. Do you not wish to see it now?”

“I was just being flip, Professor. I apologize. Let’s continue.”

* * *

Astoria Greengrass, Tori to her friends, had always felt overshadowed by her sister Daphne. She was two years older, four inches taller, and much prettier. When Daphne had gone off to Hogwarts, it had given Astoria a chance to grow into her own person. That was when she adopted the nickname Tori. That was when she realized she had a gift for leading.

Where Pansy Parkinson was the leader of the girls in sixth form and Laine Slater had been for the fifth, so was Tori the leader of the fours. She hadn’t intended it. It just sort of happened. Tori hadn’t intended to become a major cog on the Hogwarts gossip either. She just happened to find herself in a position to learn things. While the upper students were all running around with their adventures, she was having nice, ordinary, boring school experiences.

While Tori had been worried about being around Daphne all the time again, her experiences at school had changed her. She was still annoying, but it didn’t seem as though she were putting her whole heart into it. They spent most of their time with their separate groups of peers.

She’d been introduced to Harry Potter and instantly been struck by his dissembling demeanour. He wasn’t the towering ego that he easily could have been. He had confidence, a healthy sense of his own self. He’d offered her friendship, despite the two year gap between them. She’d accepted, knowing how foolish it could be to refuse and how potentially consequential for her sister. Potter was quite the decent fellow. He was utterly fanciable, even though Tori knew she’d never have anything close to a shot at him. She enjoyed being his friend, and she liked being able to keep him informed as to what was going on in the castle.

Tonight she had been keeping an eye on Michelle Holt. 

Michelle was a capable Potions student, and her skills had earned her a phial of Luck Potion. Supposedly it had been stolen from her, but nobody seemed to know anything about it. Most everyone concluded that she was making it up for attention. She had been trying to earn back her social status after angering Laine over a boy. She’d put some effort into winning over the younger students, but Tori hadn’t let it go far.

Tori had followed her out to the owlery, and now she was coming back down the steps. When Michelle saw her, her steps faltered a bit and her head dropped.

“Hi, Michelle,” Tori said brightly as they drew closer.

“Hi, Astoria,” Michelle whispered.

“Nice night for a walk.”

“Sending a letter home,” Michelle said. “Mum says I don’t write enough.”

“Mine too. Want some company?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got to meet someone after.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Nobody,” Michelle said, turning away with a flush.

Tori watched her go. Why would she brush off a friendly overture like that? Michelle was desperate to ingratiate herself back into the good graces of the Slytherin girls. 

It was suspicious.

_ I wasn’t doing anything anyway. Let’s see what you’re up to, Michelle. _

* * *

Again, Harry and Dumbledore found themselves in the Gaunt house. The confrontation between Morfin and Voldemort was extremely interesting and enlightening. Harry translated the Parseltongue for Dumbledore’s benefit, as he had during a previous memory. However, to Harry's shock, the memory ended suddenly after Voldemort moved on Morfin.

“That was rather abrupt,” Harry observed, as they landed back in Dumbledore’s office.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said mildly. He began to put the memory back in the phial. “That, my boy, was what a Stunning Charm will do. The next morning, Morfin awoke laying on the floor. Tom was gone, and he had seemingly taken Marvolo’s ring.” He resumed his seat. “Up at the Riddle House, however, a much more dramatic scene unfolded. A maid walked in to find the entire Riddle family dead in the drawing room. She ran screaming down the High Street, frightened out of her wits. There was no sign of violence, which had the Muggle police running in circles. I am quite certain that this case remains unsolved, for the Killing Curse does not usually inflict any injury other than the loss of life. Usually,” Dumbledore said again, nodding to Harry. “The Ministry and the Aurors were able to solve the case much quicker. Morfin was a convicted Muggle-hater, and he lived almost in sight of the Riddle house. His conviction was for magical assault against one of the victims. It seemed obvious, so they paid him a call. Well, the investigation stopped at that point, because Morfin confessed it all gladly. He said he was proud to kill those Muggles, had been waiting until just the right time. He surrendered his wand, and it was shown to have cast the Killing Curse. He let them lead him away, the only thing upsetting him the loss of Marvolo’s ring. It was reputedly the only thing he ever talked about for the rest of his days. He had lost the last family heirloom. He died broken and alone and is buried in the cemetery right outside the walls, in the company of so many other lost souls who have departed from this plane.”

“He used Morfin’s wand, didn’t he? He stunned Morfin, took his wand, went up to ‘the big house over the way’, and committed three acts of murder.”

Dumbledore nodded. “The first, against the father who had abandoned him. The other two, I suspect, were merely because he was in cold rage. He would leave no part of the Riddle family alive. Having taken his revenge, he then returned to the Gaunt shack, implanted his memory into Morfin’s mind, returned his uncle’s wand, appropriated the ancient ring from his finger, and went on his way.”

“And Morfin never knew any different.”

“Never. He confessed, boastfully, even.”

“And because he had confessed, no one bothered to look at his memories,” Harry realized, “or if they did, they would have stopped with the false one.”

“Precisely, Harry,” Dumbledore said, sounding pleased that he had figured it out. “It took my best efforts at Legilimency to penetrate into the depths of his mind and see this true memory. I was in the middle of my quest to learn more about Voldemort’s past, and I was able to arrange a meeting with Morfin in what turned out to be the last few weeks of his life. I was able to extract the memory, and I had hopes of using it to secure his freedom, but he died before the Ministry could act.”

“There’s a metaphor,” Harry quipped.

Dumbledore cracked a smile. “We have one more memory to see tonight. I believe you will find it most interesting.”

Harry remembered that Dumbledore had called this second memory the most significant of them all. He was eager to see what it contained, but he was intrigued when the contents of the crystal phial did not pour as freely as the other memories.

“Did you leave the stopper out, sir?”

Dumbledore smiled again. “Very observant, Harry. We shall be back in mere moments. This memory is quite short. And we are off!”

* * *

The observer had thusfar been unsuccessful in eavesdropping on Potter’s meetings with the headmaster. It was becoming rather frustrating. They were obviously talking about Serious and Important Things  ( ™ ) , but were so far doing so in secret.

Whatever it was had to be of interest to the Dark Lord. Potter had never been close with the Headmaster. This was an unusual change in their relationship. The meetings were irregularly timed, but if one followed Potter as the observer did, it became clear that they were not accidental.

They were planning something.

The observer knew they had both recruited people close to them in the aid of fighting the Dark Lord. Perhaps they were joining forces. Potter's army and Dumbledore's order. The observer had amassed lists of members of both, but this was a greater threat.

The observer settled in to wait for Potter's emergence to see if it would shed any light on the situation. 

* * *

“That  _ was _ short,” Harry agreed.

He was trying to figure out what made that memory so special. It obviously had something to do with it being different from the others, with the fog and the time dilation and the booming voice.

“You noticed the differences,” Dumbledore said. “Any thoughts on the significance?”

“No, sir.”

“It had been tampered with.”

“By whom?” Harry had his suspicions.

“By Professor Slughorn himself,” Dumbledore confirmed. “He has tried to manipulate the memory in such a way as to show himself in a better light. He has lied to himself so much and so often about this conversation that he starts to believe it. His subconscious knows the truth, but his conscious mind gave me this memory. There is something, several somethings, that he does not wish me to see.” Dumbledore paused. “Here is where the task falls to you, Harry.”

“To me, sir?” said a startled Harry.

“Professor Slughorn is fond of you. He boasts regularly in the staff room of having tea with you. He claims you are the greatest of friends. If this is remotely true, if you have any influence with him, you must persuade him to show us what truly took place that evening. It could well be the key to everything.”

Harry was hesitant. “Sir, I’m not sure what I can do.”

“There is much,” Dumbledore said firmly. “It is the only way. He is an exceptional wizard, highly skilled in the arts of the mind, and a legendary Potions Master. We will not penetrate his secrets with Legilimency or Veritaserum. Moreover, it would be foolish to confront him so overtly. The costs could far outweigh the benefits. I also wish him to remain at Hogwarts. Yet he is only human, as are we all. He has his vices and his weaknesses, and they can be used against him. You, Harry, are likely the only person who can get the truth from him. I cannot stress how important it could be.”

“Because he likes me, you think he’ll talk to me?” 

“I sincerely hope so, Harry. Until you can achieve this, our lessons shall be incomplete.”

Harry nodded. "I understand, Professor." 

He bid Dumbledore good night and went back down the spiral staircase, mulling the task at hand over in his mind. Yes, he had a rapport with Professor Slughorn. But did that mean he would divulge his memory to Harry?

_ This sounds like a job for a Slytherin, but how do you out-do a former Head of House? _


	24. Suspect

**** Apparition lessons began in early February for all eligible sixth years. Harry and the others who had practiced over the summer had to fake their skill. This was actually harder than learning to Apparate in the first place. Harry twirled around, tripped, and collided with Draco. They landed in a heap. Pansy jumped up in the air and spun around. They all looked ridiculous, and everyone got the giggles.

Weasley was in the class, to Harry’s dismay. Fortunately he seemed more focused on learning to Apparate than bothering with the Slytherins. He’d actually been much less of a nuisance this year, and Harry was grateful. The truce had miraculously not disintegrated.

All in all, things had actually been going relatively well lately, which should have been a warning to Harry. The headline in the Daily Prophet the next morning stunned them all. Draco laid it flat for everyone to see.

**HARRY POTTER ACCUSED OF CRUCIATUS!!**

by Barnabas Cuffe, Editor-in-Chief

Late last night after the Evening Prophet had gone to press, a letter was received in these offices from the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange. It will not be reproduced in full, for it contains much offensive language and propaganda, but there is a portion very shocking and serious indeed.

“Having achieved our goals in the Ministry that night, we withdrew from the fight. We were pursued by Harry Potter and Sirius Black, my cousin. I was the only one to not reach the Apparition point. Potter and Black teamed up against me, and Potter used the Cruciatus Curse. I was so shocked that the noble hero of absolute goodness would use an Unforgivable that I didn’t dodge in time. After that, I was at their mercy. They had none. Potter used the Curse again and again as Black cheered him on. Had my Lord not come to my rescue, I’m sure they would have killed me, using another Unforgivable.”

Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, is one of the most notorious criminals of the last war. She was captured in the act of torturing Aurors and sentenced to multiple life sentences in the old prison. She and other Death Eaters arrested that night, her husband Rodolphus, his brother Rabastan, are reportedly part of the Inner Circle. When You-Know-Who took over, they were freed and have been causing mayhem ever since.

Readers will remember that Harry Potter earlier this summer supported the Ministry’s successful effort to classify more curses as Unforgivable. The word of a Death Eater is automatically suspect, but the law requires any suspicion of Unforgivable magic to be investigated, as she surely knows. The Ministry of Magic had no immediate comment.

 

Every eye was on Harry, and the buzz of conversation in the Great Hall was fevered. Even the teachers had their heads together. Dumbledore seemed to be reassessing Harry, wondering if the accusation could be true.

Harry tried to calm his mind and keep his expression neutral. It was damn near impossible, because he  _ had _ tried to use the Curse against her. The emotions attached to the memory would betray him if Dumbledore tried Legilimency.

Sweet Slytherin, it was all over the paper. The entire world would see it. Some would not believe it, but others would. Those believers would lash out at him. How was he ever going to survive this?

“Let’s get the obvious out of the way,” Draco said. “Harry didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Clearly,” Pansy said. “Even if he had used that curse against her, she would have deserved it.”

“But he didn’t,” Tracy said sharply. “She’s obviously lying, trying to smear Harry’s good name. It’s because Harry’s been so supportive of the Minister and the war preparations. If people start to wonder if Harry’s turned Dark, then they won’t take the Ministry as seriously as they should.”

“It really doesn’t matter why,” Harry said, trying not to look at the paper. “It’s out there, in public.”

“Cuffe is right that all allegations of Unforgivables must be investigated,” Ginny contributed. “I’ve heard my dad say the same thing.”

“They take those curses very seriously,” Draco replied. “The Ministry is going to have to respond.”

That response came in the next morning’s paper.

**MINISTRY BACKS POTTER**

by A. Fenetre

The Ministry of Magic has the utmost confidence that the charges against Harry Potter are unfounded and will prove to be baseless, said Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge, yesterday. “Captain Potter has been leading his peers in the Duelling Club as they improve their skills to fight against the darkness represented by the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who. I myself who taught him for one year know firsthand that Captain Potter is a model student and a fine young wizard.”

Given the Ministry’s full support for the Boy-Who-Lived at the highest levels, one has to wonder if there will be any investigation into the accusations at all. Given the credibility of the Death Eaters in general and Bellatrix Lestrange in particular, one has to wonder if the Ministry should even bother.

Given the inhuman atrocities Bellatrix Lestrange has committed, should we even care if she did feel that curse? A surprisingly high volume of letters to the editor flooded the Daily Prophet’s offices since we broke the story, and nearly 70% are of the opinion that she got what she deserved. Can an Unforgivable Curse become forgivable? It seems so.

No further information is available. Please consult yesterday’s Prophet or turn to page 6 for the previous report.

For more on Bellatrix Lestrange’s heinous crimes, turn to page 7.

 

All day yesterday, people had been watching Harry. Some were blatant about it, others looked away when he made eye contact. The whispering, the pointing, the isolation; it was just like second year all over again, just like fourth. The constant suspicion was positively grating. Harry was a Slytherin, and everyone was ready to believe the worst about Slytherin. They were conditioned to it. Breaking that knee-jerk reflex would take years upon years.

_ It has to start with me _ , he realized.  _ I am the Heir of Slytherin, and I have to cleanse the taint that Voldemort left on our House. Nobody else is going to do it for me. _

The next meeting of the Duelling Club was turbulent, to say the least.

Harry called the club to order and was about to start them in on target practice and endurance casting when he was interrupted by Zacharias Smith, a fifth year Hufflepuff with a loud mouth and a tendency to claim descendance from Helga Hufflepuff herself.

He drawled, “Hey, Potter. When do we get to start learning the Cruciatus?”

Harry stopped in his tracks. “Smith, you’re out of line. Ten points from Hufflepuff.”

“Oh come on!” Smith cajoled. “Why won’t you teach us?”

“Why would you want to learn it?” Harry retorted. “Better yet, why would you believe what a follower of Voldemort has to say? The editor himself said the rest was nothing but propaganda and praise for him.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t do it?” Smith sounded sceptical.

Harry’s wand hand twitched. “Of course that’s what I’m saying. You’ve got to have some real hate in your heart to be able to use that curse. Magic is about intent, as I’ve said a thousand times before. To really want someone to suffer takes real evil.”

“Yeah, but Slytherins are evil,” Smith said, looking triumphantly around at everyone else as though he’d just said the most original thing ever.

“Detention, Smith,” Harry said without missing a beat, “with Filch.”

Smith scowled fiercely. “See, that’s the sort of thing that doesn’t help to change minds.”

Harry wasn’t impressed. “Another one, with Professor Snape.”

“You really are a twat, aren’t you, Potter?”

Harry couldn’t believe Smith was still talking. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you, Smith? Are you trying for a third?”

Smith spread his hands and innocently protested, “I just asked a question.”

Harry had had enough. “You were completely obnoxious about it. If you wanted to ask me, you could have done it privately. Instead, you ask in the middle of the meeting, because you wanted to have an audience. Now you’re taking up everyone’s time that they should be using to improve their own skills.” Harry stared at him disdainfully. “I’ve decided that you’ve offended me. I demand satisfaction.”

Smith paled. “You want to duel?”

Harry gave him his best hard stare. “One on one.”

Smith gulped. “Alright, then.”

Harry had to give him credit for bravery. It could also have been Hufflepuff stubbornness not allowing him to admit he was wrong.

Smith stepped into the duelling circle. He took his place on the starting mark. Harry did the same.

They turned to face each other, and Smith bowed, but Harry didn’t even give a nod of his head. The bowing was to show respect, and he had no respect for Smith right now. He was angry, but it was a cold anger. He took up a defensive posture, waiting to see what Smith could do.

Smith held back too, waiting to see how mad he’d made Harry, no doubt. It wasn’t a bad idea.

Harry didn’t take the bait. He waited, coiled like a snake, to strike when the time was right.

Neither cast a spell. The onlookers were on the edge of their skins with anticipation. Nobody dared to draw breath.

Finally Smith’s nerve broke and he cast a series of minor curses to soften up Harry’s shield, but Harry didn’t cast one. He simply moved his body out of the way, not even lifting his feet from the floor.

Harry toyed with Smith, letting him tire himself out. When his last attack failed, then Harry went on the offensive. It didn’t take much. With a crushing Bludgeoner, Smith went flying through the air. Harry cast a Softening Charm before he smacked into the wall, followed by a non-verbal Summoning Charm and called Smith’s wand to him.

“I’m not even breathing hard,” Harry said, dropping Smith’s wand on the floor. “You didn’t land a single hex on me, Smith. If you’re going to run your mouth, you might want to improve your aim a bit, because I won’t be the last one to demand satisfaction.”

Harry’s ‘thrashing’ of Smith, as it quickly became on the Hogwarts grapevine, started a firestorm of highly exaggerated stories going around the school that painted Harry in a Dark light. Many of them involved Ron Weasley, and Harry felt a bit guilty when he realized just how many times he, Draco, and the others had hexed the Gryffindor prat.

_ If only he didn’t invite it so much! _

The accusations didn’t make things any easier at the second Apparition class. Harry and his friends were still pretending that they didn’t know what they were doing. The instructor, a Mr. Twycross, had been growing very cross with their fooling around and had snapped at them after the first lesson. Now he seemed afraid to tell Harry what to do. He stayed far away from Harry and his group.

Two weeks into February was St. Valentine's Day, and Harry had a date with Tracy. At least, that had been the plan. Harry hadn’t wanted to take Tracy out to someplace tacky like Madam Puddifoot’s establishment. The Three Broomsticks was more or less the default. It wasn’t really a problem; Molly Weasley’s cooking was entirely worthy.

They were sitting at a three-person table toward the back of the dining room, where the corridor led out to the loo. It was not the best seat in the house, but Harry had conjured a pole and a curtain to block the view. He considered extending it once he noticed the same man walk by for the third time in ten minutes.

“Can I help you?” Harry asked crossly.

The man started and fumbled all over himself trying to get away. There were only a few coherent words in the mix. 

Harry sighed with exasperation. “Go away!”

As the man fled, Tracy squeezed his hand. “Ignore him.”

“I’m trying.”

That man was not the first. Several other nosy people wanted to get a look at The-Boy-Who-Cursed or whatever stupid name they were going to give him next. By the fourth one, Harry had had enough. He stood up abruptly.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

Tracy had been trying her best to keep him calm, but she also stood.

“As you wish.”

Harry tossed a few coins on the table to pay for their drinks. The food hadn’t come yet, so he didn’t pay for it.

They exited via the back door. They encountered a couple snogging in the alley behind the inn. It was Ron Weasley and Romy Vane, who it seemed were a couple now.

Harry’s truce with Weasley had been holding up reasonably well, but the accusation had changed all of that. He really didn’t care. The idiots inside had put him in a poor frame of mind to deal with idiots outside.

“What do her tonsils taste like, Weasley?” Harry said viciously.

The Gryffindors broke apart.

“Delicious, not that it’s any of your business,” Weasley spat back.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Harry said. “By all means, continue.”

Weasley began to turn red. “We’re not putting on a show for your amusement, Potter!”

“That’s a shame,” Tracy said. “You two were quite a spectacle.”

“Thank you,” Romy said proudly.

Tracy looked down her nose at the younger girl. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

Weasley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The veins in his neck bulged a little less. “Even if you are the next Dark wizard, it’s too nice a day to argue with you.”

Harry was startled at Weasley’s restraint. “That we agree on. See you later, Weasley. You kids have fun.” Harry took Tracy’s hand and led her away. “I’m sorry about all of that; Weasley and those tossers at the inn.”

Tracy smiled at him. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

_ Oh, but it is. _ “Thanks. I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

Now that he was calming down, he felt rather embarrassed. “I’m sorry I ruined our date.”

“It’s not ruined,” she said brightly. “We’re still on our date. We’re just having an unplanned adventure.”

He couldn’t help but return her smile. “That’s one way to look at it.”

She squeezed his hand. “So what shall we do on our adventure?”

Harry’s stomach rumbled. “We should start by getting some food. Come on. I know how to get into the kitchens. The house elves will bring us anything we ask for.”

Tracy giggled. “Anything?”

“Probably. What’s your favourite food these days?”

“Grilled salmon. You?”

“That’s really good,” Harry admitted. “I’m a sucker for pie and mash and eels.”

“Eew,” Tracy said with a shudder.

He grinned at her. “No,  _ eels _ .”

She pouted a bit. “I heard you. Gross.”

“It’s really good,” he wheedled.

It was not to be. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Harry grinned. “If I have some today, does that mean you won’t kiss me later?”

“It certainly does.”

The elves were all too happy to make them food. They compromised on fish pie and mash. It was delicious.

“Now what?” she asked.

Harry wouldn’t mind a nap. “Want to take a walk around the lake?”

Tracy shook her head, sending her hair flipping around. “The path is probably snowed in by now. Where can we have some privacy?”

Harry knew just the place. “Let’s head upstairs.”

As they were approaching the secret passage, it opened from the other side and the spacey Luna Lovegood stepped out. 

She had straggly, waist-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of Butterbeer corks.

“Oh, hello,” she said breezily.

“Hi, Lovegood,” Tracy said, not making eye contact.

“Have you seen a blue jumper anywhere? Or a fifth year Potions book?” Her voice was thin and ethereal.

“Sorry, no,” Harry said.

She frowned. “Oh dear. Thankfully, Professor Slughorn has allowed me to use one of his books for the time being, but he’s loaned me three so far, and I’m starting to run out of excuses.”

Harry gave the girl a keener look. “You keep losing them?”

Tracy glanced down. “Where are your shoes?”

“I’m not quite certain. I’m looking for them, you see.”

“Did you take them off to walk barefoot and forget where they were?”

“That does sound like something I would do,” Luna said thoughtfully, “but I don’t remember doing so. Which is not to say that Wrackspurts couldn’t have found a way past the protection of my necklace. I’m more inclined to believe that Nargles are responsible.”

“Nargles?” Tracy said skeptically. “I’ve never heard of Nargles.”

“That’s alright,” Luna said comfortingly. “I’m sure they haven’t heard of you either.”

Harry couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. Tracy shot him an irritated look.

“Maybe it’s people taking your things,” he suggested. “Got any enemies?”

“Oh no. Well, there are some people who think I’m a bit odd.”

“They’d be right,” Tracy muttered.

“They would be right,” Luna said agreeably. “I guess they do think it’s amusing when I can’t do my homework or if I get cold.”

A boiling rage built up in Harry. He hated bullies. He’d been abused too many times at Dudley’s hands.

“Who?” he demanded coldly.

Luna considered the matter. She twirled her wand in her fingers and returned it to behind her ear. “I’m not certain. Probably everyone, in some capacity.”

That only made Harry even more furious. “Do you come to Duelling Club?”

She gave a casual shrug. “No, I’m not really a joiner.”

“If you start coming, I’ll help you deal with these thieves.”

“Everyone will be so far ahead of me.” She sounded half-convinced.

Harry pressed her. “I’ll work with you outside of the club. We’ll stay after club is over. I have the authority to walk the halls at any time, so you won’t be caught out after curfew.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Luna said with a smile. “You’re very kind. I’ll see you then.”

She wandered off, gazing around and not looking where she was going.

Tracy watched her go, shaking her head with an amused sigh, and wrapped her arms around Harry. “That was so unselfish of you.” She smooched him.

“Shall we?”

“Let’s.”

He and Tracy spent the rest of the day in the Room of Requirement. It was a good day.

* * *

The next day, after the third Apparition class, Harry had tea with Professor Slughorn. For the first time, he didn’t want to hear old stories. He needed to seek the man’s advice.

“Well, you are having quite the week, aren’t you?” the bald man said as he poured the tea.

“You might say that,” Harry said with a rueful grin. He scratched his eyebrow. “I don’t know what to do, Professor. I’ve been hated before, but this is something all new.”

“The wizarding world takes the Unforgivables very seriously.”

Harry sighed. “I know. I just don’t see why they’d believe it.”

Slughorn passed the pastries. “Ignorance and sensationalism, my boy. What are you doing to respond?”

Harry took several pastries and paused to enjoy one immediately. It melted in his mouth and it seemed Heaven burst upon his tongue.

“Well,” he said when he could speak again, “I’ve got Pansy running damage control here at school. The editorial pages seem to be mostly in my favour. The Ministry supports me.”

Slughorn took a slow sip of tea. “Do you think that’s enough?”

Harry and Sirius had talked about that very question.

“I hope so, but I don’t think I should be satisfied with that. I just don’t know what else to do.”

“I believe you need a spokesman, someone to give statements to the media on your behalf. They’ve been covering the accusation on the wireless. It was picked up on the continent, and now some members of the International Confederation are calling for an investigation.”

“I didn’t know that!” Harry was aghast.

“So far, Fudge is resisting. Says there’s no way a hero like yourself could have done such a thing.”

_ Well, that’s good of him. _ “A spokesman, you said?” He tried to keep the pain out of his voice. Laine was the last press agent he’d had.

“Yes,” Slughorn said, drawing out the word. “You can’t be dragged from your studies every time the newspaper needs a quote or comment. You need someone to speak for you.”

“Like who?”  _ Surely he doesn’t mean- _

“I know someone who is well-suited to savaging those who oppose her. Have you heard of Rita Skeeter?”

Harry started to laugh. “Yes, I know her.”

Slughorn smiled. “She’s freelancing at the moment, looking for her next story. I could send her a letter of introduction, if you’d like.”

Harry shook his head. “Rita knows me. We’re good friends.”

Slughorn looked a bit disappointed. “Ah! Very good then! Well, write her at once and enlist her help. Tell her Sluggy says hello.”

“That’s brilliant, Professor. Thank you.”

“Glad to help, my boy.”

* * *

_ Dear Rita, _

_ I hope you are well. I’m sure you know why I’m writing to you. You told me once to contact you if I ever needed a friend in the media. I know you’re currently freelancing, and I’d like to hire you. I need you to take charge of my public response to the recent accusations. What do you say? _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Harry Potter _

 

Rita put down the letter with a thoughtful, “Huh.” Harry Potter wanted a spokesperson. He wanted to pay her to present a certain point of view. Her reporting was sensational and took wild liberties with the truth. It was not so much a question of her journalistic integrity being for sale. She had learned a long time ago what it took to get the stories that sold copies.

Her last piece, an expose on  Ludo Bagman's mistress  hadn’t generated the usual level of outrage that her articles got. Her savings would cover her expenses for a year, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. She would have to give up her weekly clothes shopping trip. She was accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Who better to deal with the media than someone in the media?

 

_ Dear Harry, _

_ Let’s have lunch at the Hog’s Head next Sunday. We can work out the details. _

_ Yours, _

_ Rita _

* * *

Harry met Rita after the fourth Apparition class. They had a private room at the Hog’s Head.

“Alone with me?” she said with a smirk. “Mister Potter, you’re braver than most wizards.”

“There are witches who would kill to be alone with me, Rita,” Harry said, giving his best cocky grin. “You’re in rare space right now.”

She laughed lightly and leaned in to embrace him. She kissed his cheek. “Harry, so nice to see you again.”

He squeezed her briefly. “And you, Rita. We always seem to get together during these stressful situations.”

“And never socially,” she said sadly. “Such a shame. Let’s do lunch.”

“Security.”

“Ah. That cruel requirement. Let’s get this war over with so we can all go back to our normal lives.”

Harry raised his glass. “To victory.”

They drank the toast.

“Well, I must say I was surprised to receive your owl. Gratified, of course, but still quite startled.”

“Everyone says you’re the best in the business, Rita. I need public representation, and you don’t pull punches.”

“Let’s talk fee. Since I have to stop being an unbiased, hard-hitting, news reporter if I accept this job, I’ll need at least a hundred Galleons a week, plus expense account. I will send you my copy before I send it to the media, but it’s an all or nothing deal. No censorship. Oh, and Sirius has to go out with my niece Kristy.”

_ Sirius will love that last one. _ “Done.”

Rita turned utterly professional in a heartbeat. She began to jot down notes. “Okay, we’ll start by asking a bunch of questions to discredit Bellatrix’s accusation. Why did it take her so long to come forward? It supposedly happened over six months ago. Why now? Was the letter really from Bellatrix? Maybe it was from someone else who is trying to discredit the Ministry. Maybe it’s someone here at school for some reason. Maybe a Muggleborn boy who has no concept of how serious the accusation is did it because you are flirting with a girl he likes. We can raise all kinds of doubts.”

Harry’s head was spinning. “Doubt is good.”

Her hand was scribbling furiously. “What’s very good is that it has been six months and you’ve cast hundreds of spells since the alleged Unforgivable.”

“Thousands.”

“Even better. There’s no way to prove your wand cast such a spell.”

They talked strategy for the next hour. Harry was astounded with the depth of Rita’s savvy. When he had to return to the school, he felt much better about the future.

* * *

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to let you know that I will be coming up to the school next Wednesday to have a little chat about this silly accusation against you. The Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, will be coming with me. It’s nothing to worry about; strictly routine. _

_ All my best, _

_ Dolores Umbridge _

_ Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic _

* * *

A few days after the full moon, Harry went to Professor Snape’s office. He used the knock for an urgency that wasn’t an emergency.

Snape looked up from his papers. “Yes, Mister Potter? What can I do for you?”

Harry got right to the point. “Sir, I wish to test my Occlumency.”

His teacher raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “For what reason?”

“Break into my mind and find out,” he replied cheekily.

Snape was not amused. “You fear that the Ministry will aggressively attempt to find the truth.”

Harry nodded. “I do.”

Snape’s eyes gleamed. “And what is the truth, Mister Potter? Did you cast the curse?”

Harry readied himself. “No.”

“ _ Legilimens! _ ”

After a few moments, Snape lowered his wand. He was breathing hard.

“An admirable defence, Mister Potter. I do not believe any Ministry Legilimencer could penetrate your secrets. I do not know whether or not you have told me the truth.”

Harry was also a bit winded. “The Director of Magical Law Enforcement is coming here next week and I want to be ready for anything.”

Snape nodded. “A wise decision. You could be subjected to Legilimency. They may administer Veritaserum. You may even have to provide a memory.”

“Glad I’ve been building a tolerance to Veritaserum,” Harry said. “Thank you, sir. Your foresight is uncanny.”

“You are welcome, Mister Potter. What of the memory?”

Harry hesitated. “I can’t show them my memory.”

Snape considered him for an endless moment. “So you did use it.”

“I tried. It didn’t work.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect that it would. Not from you. Not for that reason.”

Harry tried not to tremble. “I do hate her. She’s pure evil.”

“Which is why she can use the curse so well.”

“She does deserve it.” It was hard to keep the venom from his voice.

Snape nodded slowly. “She receives it. Often. I believe she actually enjoys it.”

Harry shuddered. “That’s sick.”

“It is. How did you learn that Director Bones would be coming? I was only informed this very evening.”

“I got an owl from Madam Umbridge.”

Snape’s lip curled.

“She said she’d be coming too and that they need to ask me a few questions. She said it was strictly routine.”

“You are fortunate to have powerful friends. I believe there will be nothing to worry about very soon.”

“We’ll see if this satisfies the ICW,” he muttered.

“Was there anything else, Mister Potter?”

“Yes, sir, there was. I want to develop those new spells with you. I’m ready now.”

“Very good. I have already done the preliminary research.” He reached for his notes. “The Cruciatus does indeed trigger all of the body’s pain receptors. There are other kinds of receptors, in particular those for temperature. The ones for heat are separate from those for cold. It is possible to develop a spell to trigger those other receptors.”

“Let’s get to it. Where do we start? The cold curse?”

“Magic is about intent. Visualize all the nerve endings in your foe’s body. Then imagine the most bitter cold you can think of. Bring the two together. You know what the curse should do. Make it happen.”

Harry bent his imagination, thinking of the bitter chill caused by the dementors. The enormity of that sensation concentrated and focused on every single cold receptor nerve ending in a body.

“When you are ready,” Snape said quietly, “you may try it out on me.”

“Sir!” Harry was startled, and the visualization faded. “I couldn’t.”

“You must. There is no other way.”

“Let’s make sure it’ll even work,” Harry said dryly. He pointed his wand at the wall and focused on cold again. “What wand motion should I use?”

“If nothing in particular is coming naturally, there are several choices. You could take any of the runes for coldness and trace them. You could start with the wand movement for Cruciatus and modify it.”

Harry closed his eyes and focused on the cold images. He felt his wand arm rising, and he performed a movement that came to him. Bright ice-blue sparks erupted from his wand.

“Excellent, Harry! Well done. A marvellous first attempt. Ten points to Slytherin.”

“Wow,” Harry said, feeling incredibly drained. “Why do I feel so tired?”

“New magic often takes a toll on the body. Since this spell has never existed before, it will take time to refine it. The wand movement will be tightened. Perhaps you will even choose words.”

Harry tried once more. “ _ Frigio! _ ” This time there were even more sparks, and Harry sank into a chair. “I’m knackered.”

“A valiant effort. You will sleep very soundly tonight.”

“I should head that way before I just fall asleep here then.”

“Good night, Mister Potter.”

“Good night, sir.”

* * *

Professor Umbridge had been sacked by Headmaster Dumbledore at the end of Ron Weasley’s fifth year. He’d been glad to see her go. He hated her. He’d had detention with her a few times, and at the second one for fighting with Slytherins, he’d had to write some lines for her.

Ron had reported her use of the blood quill to his dad. Dad had tried to use the information, but he got shut down quite soon. She was still Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and might have taken a personal hand.

Seeing Umbridge stroll back into the Great Hall set Ron’s blood to boiling. His face got hot, his ears were burning, and his fists clenched tightly.

Then Romy took his arm and began to stroke his back.

“Easy, Ronald. Deep breaths.”

“Hate her so much,” he seethed.

“I know. I know. It’s going to be okay. She’s only here for a moment, then she’ll be gone.”

“She’s not going to arrest her golden boy! She might as well not come at all. This is a farce, that’s what this is. A farce! Potter was Umbridge’s favourite student, and she already defended him in the paper. There’s no independent commission here! This is a fix. A fix, I tell you!”

His blood pressure was steadily rising, but he was suddenly distracted as Romy began to nibble his ear.

“Romy, what are you- oh wow! Whoa. Oh that’s weird! Do it again! Wah! Oh man. Mmm, yeah, mmm that’s nice. That feels good. Romy, we’re in the Great Hall.”

“So?” she murmured against his skin. She caught his earlobe between her teeth and tugged slightly.

“You are incredible at being distracting, do you know that?”

“I know.”

“I just thought I would let you know. Oooh!”

* * *

Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, and Amelia Bones, Director of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, arrived in the Great Hall just as breakfast was finishing up. They approached the high table and held a quiet conversation with Dumbledore and Professor Snape.

Snape came to fetch Harry. They went into the antechamber off the hall where the Triwizard champions had waited after being selected.

“What’s this all about, sir?” Harry asked Dumbledore as he approached.

“Harry, the Director would like to have a few words with you if that’s alright.”

“Does Sirius know about this?”

Snape nodded. “He does. I informed him this morning.”

“Professor Snape is here as your Head of House to watch out for your interests,” Dumbledore interjected.

“Thank you, sir.”

Snape nodded.

“Let’s all have a seat, shall we?” Dumbledore suggested. He gave a wave of his wand to conjure half a dozen squashy armchairs.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Madam Umbridge said sweetly.

Director Bones began. “We are here to investigate the accusation against Mister Harry James Potter that he performed the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry, it is a matter of record that both you and Bellatrix were present in the Ministry on the night in question. She killed your girlfriend, Laine Slater, and fled. You pursued her up into the Atrium, followed by Sirius Black and Lucius Malfoy. They duelled her, defeated her, and then the self-styled Dark Lord came to her rescue. Sirius and Lucius fought him, and she escaped in the confusion. The question is how you prevented her from simply escaping from the Atrium. How did you manage to delay her until Sirius and Lucius arrived?”

“I got her attention,” Harry answered. He tried to choose his words carefully, though it was hard when he was so nervous.

“How?”

“I finally got a good line on her.”

“What spell did you use?”

“I don’t really remember, Director.”

“Oh no?”

Harry shook his head. He really didn’t remember. “It was non-verbal.” The bolt of energy had been common red.

“And she blocked it?”

“Yes. It made her stop and face me.”

“And then?”

“She taunted me for a bit. We were about to get into it when Sirius got there. She’s his cousin, as you know, so they had a few things to say to each other. Then Mister Malfoy got there. She taunted him for awhile. Mister Malfoy duelled with her. He beat her, and she called for Voldemort to come save her.”

Madam Umbridge flinched.

“I see,” said Director Bones, adjusting her monocle. 

“Well, I think that wraps it up,” Madam Umbridge said.

“Not quite yet, Dolores,” Bones said. “Mister Potter, what spell did you first cast on Bellatrix?”

"All I remember was that it was red. I told you it was non-verbal."

“May I remind the Director that the Cruciatus Curse casts no light?” Snape interjected.

“It does not, to the best of our knowledge. Thank you, Professor Snape, for pointing that out.” Director Bones shuffled the papers in front of her. "I do believe that settles it. You're free to go, Mister Potter. Thank you for your cooperation."

"You're welcome, Director." Harry stood, and it was all he could do not to run out of the room in relief. 


	25. Lily and Severus

After the sixth Apparition class, where Harry and the others had finally started to ‘catch on’ to the trick, Harry had another lesson with Dumbledore. This would be their fourth session together.

The headmaster stood at Fawkes’ perch, stroking his head feathers, when Harry opened the door. “Ah, Harry, do take a load off. May I offer you some tea? Perhaps a sherbet lemon? I have also just acquired a new candy called a cinnamon twist.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Harry accepted the tea and put the sweet aside for the moment.

“You did well with your recent legal trouble,” Dumbledore said, sounding pleased.

“Thank you, sir.” The Ministry had informed the press that after a thorough investigation, the charges against Harry were baseless and would be dismissed.

“It was clever to hire Rita Skeeter as your press agent. Putting your side of the story out there in such a powerful way has the public entirely on your side.”

Harry nodded. “Professor Slughorn suggested it.”

“Did he now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Harry didn’t volunteer anything further, so Dumbledore turned to business. They watched two more memories that night, one of Hokey the house elf and another from Dumbledore himself. Voldemort had made off with Slytherin’s locket and Hufflepuff’s cup and years later had applied for the Defence job.

Dumbledore returned the memory to the crystal phial. “Now, we have reached the end of my little collection. There can be no further progress until we see the true memory from Professor Slughorn.”

“Yes, sir. I haven’t been able to speak on the subject yet.”

“We must know what he and Voldemort discussed that day.”

“I’m having tea with him tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do.”

Harry left Dumbledore’s office wondering how on Earth he was going to casually bring up the subject of Horcruxes. He was so lost in his thoughts that he was startled to be suddenly dragged into a side corridor.

He went for his wand until he noticed that it was Tori.

“Hey, Harry.” She checked to make sure no one was following them. “Didn’t you see me signalling to you?”

“Tori, hi. Sorry about that.”

“Zabini has been talking to Michelle in the library for the past twenty minutes. They’ve got books in front of them, but they’re talking about the other group.”

Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. “They know?”

“Not in so many words, but I think it’s only a matter of time before one of them puts it all together.”

Harry resisted the urge to swear. “We were so careful.”

“We were, but it’s impossible for so many people to up and vanish all at once so many times without someone noticing. I’m surprised we got away with it this long.”

“Okay. We’ll have to change it up a bit. Thanks, Tori.”

“Not a problem.”

Harry returned to the Serpent’s Lair, wondering how much longer he’d be able to keep people in the dark about his Order.

As it turned out, not long.

Tracy came directly up to Harry as soon as he walked into the common room. “Zabini wants in.”

Instead of his throat, now Harry’s heart dropped into his guts. “What?”

“He wants in,” Tracy repeated. “He cornered me after Herbology. He knows about the Order. Enough, anyway. He doesn’t know the name, but he knows we are a group. He knows we’ve been meeting in secret. He knows we’re all far more advanced at magic than he is. He’s enough of a Slytherin that it’s driving him nuts. He wants to get better.”

Harry drew in a deep breath. It was time to make a decision about Zabini. “He’s out. He stays out. He wants to get better? That’s what Duelling Club, Charms Club, and all the other clubs are for. The Order is only made up of people I trust, and he’s given me no reason to trust him. There was a traitor in the Order of the Phoenix during the first war. I’m deadly afraid that Voldemort is going to be able to gain some sort of leverage over someone in my circle and force him or her to betray us all. I can’t imagine having to kill anyone who I’ve asked to join me.”

“He was pretty insistent. He said he needed to be a part of it.”

“Need? That a strange word to use.”

“I thought so too.”

Harry pondered what to about Zabini as he sat by the fire. If he kept on pressing, he would have to be dissuaded.  _ If only he would calm down and let a friendship develop naturally. _ He was too eager, and in their present climate, that was suspicious. Harry wouldn’t have minded keeping him somewhat close, to keep an eye on him, but he was incredibly annoying.

* * *

 

“Professor Slughorn, I’d like to learn more about Severus Snape. What was he like as a student? I’ve gotten one side of him from Sirius and Remus, and I know they didn’t really get along. Tell me some good things about him.”

Slughorn leaned back in his chair. “Ah, Severus. A boy with a true gift for brewing potions. Much like his mother. Eileen Prince was also a student of mine, and she had great talent at potionmaking. She had the most delicate touch. It’s all in the hands, you see. She had long fingers, a broad reach, the sort of hands you would see on a pianist. Professor Snape has the same hands, you know. He was always top student in his year group in Potions.”

“Did he ever get detention?”

“Many times, usually in connection with your father somehow."

Harry knew that the Marauders had had countless confrontations that had resulted in lost points and detentions all around.

“I would never speak ill of one of my colleagues, but Severus was not a model student. He seemed likely to be the sort of wizard who builds a tower somewhere and casts a bunch of Muggle-repelling Charms all over the place and just lives in his tower, brewing away hunched over a cauldron, studying magic for its own sake, inventing new spells and advancing magical theory. Well, that offended your father for some reason. He certainly disparaged the quiet life of a scholar often enough. I’m sorry to say your father bullied Mister Snape quite a lot. He didn’t have many friends, even in Slytherin, and it was often two or three on one.”

One thing Harry had never understood was why none of the other Slytherins had stood up for Snape. “Why didn’t the house help him?”

“A few did, out of duty,” Slughorn said, nodding slowly, “but he always snarled that he didn’t need protection. He grew strong in the Dark Arts after he realized that he could depend only on himself.”

“But why not the others?” Harry was bothered by the fact that Snape had been bullied. He might have had issues with some members of his house, but he still wouldn’t let anyone from another house mistreat them.  _ Even Michelle. Hell, even Zabini. Merlin himself couldn’t tolerate that tosser. _

“He was not a part of their society. He is not a pureblood.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “He isn’t?”

“A half-blood,” Slughorn said solemnly. “His mother was from a well-known pureblood family. His father Tobias was a Muggle.”

“No!”  _ A full-blown Muggle? _

Slughorn nodded, his many chins jiggling. “Oh yes. Very scandalous, it was, very scandalous.”

Harry didn’t think much of Muggles, but he wasn’t about to judge anyone based on their blood relatives. He’d hate for anyone to judge him based on the Dursleys. “Well, that’s no excuse for letting a housemate get thrashed around.”

“Quite right, my boy. I did what I could to look out for him, but I couldn’t be everywhere at once, and your father and his friends were quite adept at sneaking around this castle. There were a number of ugly incidents.” Professor Slughorn ate a pastry and washed it down with a swig of tea. “The worst was one incident which everyone in the castle knew about, which was when your father had gathered a crowd while he levitated Mister Snape and manipulated him like a puppet. He hung him upside down and his robes fell over his head. He took off Mister Snape’s trousers.”

Harry had heard this story, but he acted appropriately shocked. “No! The nerve! What happened next?”

“Well, your mother intervened at that point. She got James to put him down. Now, you would think a person would be grateful, but alas, Mister Snape was angry and he called your mother a Mudblood. Well, she nearly hexed him into his component organs and lined them up alphabetically, if you believe the rumour mill. She dragged James away, still yelling at him.”

Harry was confused. “Why would she intervene like that?”

“Why wouldn’t she? They were friends.”

“What?” Harry fell back in his seat, shocked for real this time. “Friends?”

“Oh my yes,” Slughorn exclaimed. “Sat together on the train their first year. Sat together in my class. Studied together in the library. Thick as thieves, at least at first. As they moved up in the school, they spent less and less time together. A sad thing, really, but only natural. That incident was the end of it. They avoided each other thereafter.”

Harry left Professor Slughorn’s quarters in a lurch, his mind reeling. Professor Snape knew his mum? Really knew her? He’d once said that Lily Evans was a superb potionmaker, that she was in his year group, but he’d offered nothing else, and Harry hadn’t asked. The things he’d learned during his monthly tea with Slughorn were surely only the merest morsels of who she was as a person. 

_ All this time, he never said anything. WHY? He had any number of opportunities to do so.  _

Harry looked up to his Head of House, admired him in many ways. It took an awesome strength and courage to stare directly into Voldemort’s insane eyes and lie to him. Harry cursed himself for not pressing the issue, but Snape’s demeanour never allowed it, and if he didn’t want to answer he certainly wasn’t going to. Snape’s sense of humour was largely non-existent. Harry had seen him crack smiles several times, but he was usually very dour. One tried comedy or cheek with Snape at one’s own peril.

And his mother had been friends with this man? Good friends? Sitting together in Potions class in first year sort of friends? Always together in the library and on Hogsmeade visits?

Harry wanted answers.

He didn’t remember the trip from Slughorn’s office to Snape’s office. He just knew that the door appeared in front of him. He knocked, indicating a Slytherin with an emergency situation.

“Yes?” Snape said, as the door opened. He was at his desk grading papers, but the quill was cleaned, and Harry had his full attention.

Harry kicked the door shut and drew in a great, shuddering breath. “When,” he seethed, “were you going to tell me that you knew my mother?”

Snape regarded him disdainfully. “What sort of question is that? You know full well we were in the same year group. I admired her potionmaking.” He picked up his quill again.

“When were you going to tell me she was your friend?”

Snape dropped the quill and sat back heavily. “So he told you.”

“Yes.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. When Snape at last responded, his voice was flat. “That is unfortunate.”

“What? Unfortunate? Why?” Harry didn’t believe was he was hearing.

Snape arched his fingers, and Harry noted absently that they were indeed long and supple as Professor Slughorn had said. “You are my student. It is inappropriate for me to have any relationship with you outside the boundaries of student and teacher. I have sought to guide you, to mentor you, as a teacher and head of house ought to. I could not let it be more. I want to tell you about your mother, about the good person she was. I want to, but I must not. It would alter our relationship, and your learning would be hindered. It is also fair.”

“Fair?” Harry croaked. “What the deuce do you mean by fair?”

Snape hesitated and then said with vast understatement, “As you know, I was not on good terms with your father. This I have also tried to keep from you. Were I to tell you about your mother, I would also have to tell you about your father, and that would not be pleasant for either of us. This would also change our relationship. Your learning is too important for that sort of distraction.”

“The prophecy,” Harry said, his throat suddenly dry.

“The prophecy,” Snape replied, his tone contemptuous.

Harry pushed back his messy hair with both hands and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Is everything I do about that damned thing?”

“Probably, yes,” Snape agreed. “Mister Potter, I have chosen to be no more than your teacher, for your own good, in my opinion.”

“I think I should have a say,” Harry opined, “considering it’s my mum. Do you have any idea how hard it is to have to hear about her from other people? You all knew her, but all I have are the stories people tell about her. I want to hear them all. I want to hear them a thousand times.”

“I know,” Snape said, his eyes haunted. “But I cannot bear telling them.”

“Why?” Harry demanded.

“I have my reasons.” Snape’s tone was unreadable.

Harry narrowed his eyes and pushed his thoughts out towards Snape. What he got back was a pulse of psychic pain that flung him back into his own mind and back a step. It was a pain that was very familiar to him.

“You loved her,” Harry said. It was not a question.

“Yes,” Snape said simply.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Did she know?”

“She knew.”

“She chose my dad?”

“No, that happened later.”

“So what happened?”

“I did something she could not forgive.”

“Which was?”

“None of your business, Potter,” Snape seemed to come out of his dazed state. “Suffice to say that we ceased to be friends after our fifth year. I have always and will always regret my actions. I walked a path she couldn’t follow, and she went on to a life without me in it. Then I overheard part of a prophecy. I tried to save her, and it seemed I had, but the Dark Lord never has been one to take defiance lightly. When she would not step aside, he killed her. With that act, I pledged myself to his destruction. Then he turned his wand on you, and the rest you know.”

Harry’s head was spinning. “I understand why you wouldn’t tell me about all that, but why not that you were friends? Why not tell me some of the good stories? Remus did.”

“Lupin was a part of that circle. He held you when you were a newborn. That is very different from your mother’s childhood friend.”

“Childhood?” Harry caught another flash of emotion from Snape. “You knew each other before Hogwarts?”

“You are getting entirely too good at passive Legilimency,” Snape muttered. “Yes, we lived in the same town. I was the one who told her she was a witch. I told her all about Hogwarts. It was supposed to be a grand adventure, the two of us off to school. Then we were Sorted.” Gryffindors and Slytherins hadn’t been friendly in hundreds of years. “We tried to make time for each other, but it just wasn’t feasible. A few classes and study sessions in the library were all we had. Every chance we had, we were together, but we were growing further apart. It was killing me.”

Harry sat down in the guest chair. “Sir, please tell me some stories about my mother.”

Snape’s eyes went distant. His voice became softer.

“Your mother and I grew up in Cokeworth. She was from the normal part of town. I lived on Spinner’s End, in the old mill district. I liked to wander. That’s how I met your mother, actually. She and her older sister were playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. We were only nine, but I loved her the moment I saw her.” He paused for a moment, remembering. “I watched her for several days, wishing I could say hello. Then I saw her do accidental magic for the first time, and I loved her all anew. Lily was down at the creek, catching frogs. Petunia came storming down and ordered Lily to come home for supper. They started arguing and Petunia suddenly stumbled back and fell in the water. She accused Lily of shoving her, but I saw the whole thing. Petunia was five feet away. After that, I knew I had to find my courage. I should have found my brain.” His lip curled. “I had nothing but contempt for Petunia, and she didn’t think much of me either. She was always trying to get Lily to stop playing with me. Lily hated it when people told her what to do. She was so strong-willed. She’d stand up to anybody.” His voice dropped. “Even me, at times.”

He fell silent again, and this moment stretched on.

“You said you were the one who told her about magic,” Harry prompted.

Snape shook himself. “It was at the playground, about a week after the incident at the creek. She and Petunia were swinging, and Lily was going as high as she could. Petunia started shrieking that she wasn’t allowed, but Lily let go of the swing at the very height of the arc, as you might see any foolhardy Muggle do. Unlike a Muggle, she soared through the air and landed lightly on her feet. Then she picked up a flower and made the petals open and close over and over. Petunia asked how she was doing it, and I simply couldn’t stand it any longer. I leaped out from behind the bushes - in hindsight, I understand why Petunia screamed and ran away. Your mother, she was startled, but she wanted to hear me out. I told her she was a witch.” Snape smiled ruefully. “She got offended.”

“It’s not really tactful, is it?”

“No, it didn’t go at all according to plan.” Snape’s voice brightened. “Later on, though, she came to find me. It was a great joy to be able to talk with her. She told me she’d done unexplainable things before, and I was able to explain it. I snuck my mum’s wand a few times and showed Lily some easy spells. She took to it like a fish to water.”

The smile on Snape’s face made the man look like a whole other person. Harry never thought he would hear Snape speak so vividly about anything except Potions.

“She was kind to me. Very few people in my life had been kind to me up to that point. It was like a ray of light in the darkness of a cloudy day. We had two wonderful years together before the Hogwarts letters came. Now she was able to convince her parents that she really was a witch and that she hadn’t just been spinning yarns. Once Petunia realized there was something special about Lily, she began to turn nasty. I was there when she called Lily a freak and stormed away. Petunia was good at storming and huffing. Lily kept her anger up until Petunia was out of sight and then burst into tears. I comforted her as best I could, but I’ve never known how to handle a crying woman.”

Harry sympathized with his teacher.

“Petunia wanted to go to Hogwarts even despite being a Muggle. When Lily got her letter, she wrote to Dumbledore and begged him to be able to go. Lily told me all about it. She even wrote to Dumbledore asking, even after all the horrid things Petunia had said, if Petunia could come with her to Hogwarts. Petunia was crushed when the inevitable denial came. There is nothing for a Muggle to learn at a school of witchcraft and wizardry.”

“That’s probably why she hates magic so much,” Harry realized.

“Indeed. She was denied it.”

Harry took a moment to factor this new revelation into his perception of his childhood. He’d always tried to understand why the Dursleys hated him so much. He could never figure out what he’d done wrong. Now he realized that it was  _ what _ he was. They’d hated him because he was magical. Petunia hated her sister not only because she was magical, but because she herself was not, and she hated Harry for the same reasons. Nothing he could have done would have made them love him.

“I don’t care at all about Petunia,” Harry said dismissively. “Tell me about my mum.”

“It is hard to talk about one without the other. They were once very close. Lily called her Tuney. That’s why it hurt so much when Petunia’s jealousy destroyed their relationship.”

“How about a memory from school?”

“We went out to the Forbidden Forest one time in third year. We saw a doe. We stayed very still, and it actually approached us. It let Lily pet it.” 

Snape stopped speaking, lost in his memories.

“Sir?” Harry said after what felt like an eternity.

Snape shook himself. “A bug flew up my nose, and my thrashing caused the doe to start off. We laughed about it all the way back to the castle.”

Snape spoke haltingly. Before long, his voice became croaky. He was obviously not used to speaking at length except during Potions lectures. He would often start a story, get lost in his memories, and trail off into silence. Harry would speak, and Snape would come back to himself. 

It was like a slice of heaven to hear stories about his mum. When he heard stories from Sirius and Remus, they were usually about his dad. If his mum was a part of the story, it was in connection with his dad. Remus had most of the other stories. They’d done prefect duty together, so he’d had independent interactions with her. Those stories were nothing like these.

_ I wonder if I could persuade Snape to offer up some memories. I would dearly love to see Mum as a young girl. I’ll have to bring the pensieve up to school. I hope Sirius will let me take it. I think he and Lucius are done looking through my memories of Laine. _

* * *

 

Neville put his father’s wand back into the display case and paused for a moment of reflection. It still amazed him that the wand no longer fought against him. Where he had once despaired that he was doomed to be a pathetic wizard, now he had confidence, and the wand responded to his newfound self-esteem with improved performance.

He glanced down at his left hand.  _ That was all it took. Such a simple thing. Who knew? _

It was one more thing for which he had to thank Harry Potter. He had never thought to try his non-wand arm. Now it was completely obviously that his father’s wand wouldn’t work as well for him. If only Gran hadn’t been so stubbornly insistent.

“Hey, Nev. What’s up?” It was Ron, back from a date with Romilda Vane, the sultry fourth year. He had a big toothy grin.

“Nothing much.”

“What have you got there?”

“Just looking at my parents’ picture.”

“Ah." Ron came to stand beside him. "They look really happy."

"Yeah," Neville said wistfully. "This was taken at their wedding. They got married so young…" Neville couldn't imagine getting married while still in school. How many of his classmates would be having weddings like this soon after they left school? Would the war still be going on then? 

Ron nodded. "My parents eloped, you know. Things were already looking bad when Bill was born. And then Mum's brothers..." He paused. 

"I know," Neville said. "They worked with my parents. So many people died."

Ron's mouth went into a line. "And people are dying now. I wish we could be out there doing something."

"We are. We're preparing."

"Yeah, but what good's that? You-Know-Who is out there, right now, and here we are, learning how to turn rats into teacups. I want to fight Death Eaters."

Neville couldn't blame him. He felt the same way sometimes.  Other times he remembered how it felt to be in combat and wanted to leave it to the Aurors, even if he knew it wasn’t possible. That day in Diagon Alley had simultaneously thrilled him and terrified him. "You can't say that until you've been in a situation like that."

Ron bristled. "And you have, so you can say that?"

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I can. You may have seen it in the papers.”

Ron’s face grew red. He always did when called out on his bluster. "Yeah. I remember." He paused. "Not sure I feel ready to do something like that."

"I wasn't either. But I had to." Neville sighed. "I think that's the way it works out."

Ron nodded. "Maybe." He frowned. "I just can't imagine anyone we know dying like that."

"They will," Neville said darkly. "Just don't let it be you."

* * *

 

The next three weeks passed without much incident. Draco and his friends were to the point of showing off in Apparition lessons, which really hacked off Ron Weasley. Winding up Weasley was somehow deeply satisfying.

The only thing of note was information from Cousin Tonks that the Ministry had set loose Crabbe Sr. in an ill-fated attempt to track him back to the old prison. They’d lost him almost instantly, which had set Harry to ranting about the incompetence of the Ministry and everyone who worked in it.

Almost before they knew it, March had passed and they were boarding the Hogwarts Express to London for Easter holiday. It was going to be very busy almost immediately, but they would have a nice long week to recover.

Draco was currently in the grip of an ethical crisis. He had known for nearly nine months the truth behind his girlfriend’s brush with Darkness in her first year. She had written to a boy named Tom Riddle in a diary that turned out to have a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside. Under his influence, she’d done Dark and horrible things. She’d killed the school roosters, set the basilisk on Muggleborns, and killed Hermione Granger. No one knew how she’d come into possession of the diary, except for Draco’s father. The truth had been spoken after five years of silence.

For a time the question had been whether or not to tell her. He’d gone back and forth with himself on that question. He thought she deserved to know, but he didn’t want to admit such a thing about his father. There was no excusing his actions, and Draco didn’t want to have to try to defend his father against Ginny’s inevitable explosion. His loyalty to his father conflicted with his loyalty to the girl he was starting to think seriously about, but he knew they could never be serious with this gargantuan secret between them.

Then Harry had stepped in and threatened to tell Ginny himself if Draco didn’t. That was when Draco realized that he did owe her the truth and he resolved to give it to her. He had been trying ever since to figure out how to tell her. The ultimatum didn’t have a defined time limit, but Draco was worried that Harry might think he was taking too long.

Draco knew he couldn’t run from this unpleasant task any longer. When the train departed Hogsmeade station, he immediately tried to pull Ginny away from the group of Slytherins.

Once they were alone, he cast a Muffliato Charm, one of the secrets Professor Snape had given to the Order of the Basilisk. He didn’t want anyone else overhearing this conversation.

“This is a little public for snogging, don’t you think?” Ginny said.

“Ginny, I need to tell you something. It’s really bad.”

Her light mood vanished as she scowled. “Did you cheat on me?”

_ Why would you think that? I love you.  _ He shook his head. “Never. It’s not about something I did. It’s about something I know someone else did.”

“Okay.” She was giving him her full attention now. “What’s up?”

Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was now or never. He braced himself for an explosion. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“My father slipped you that diary.”

There was no outburst, no yelling or shouting. He dared to look up at her.

She was standing shock still. Her eyes were slightly unfocused.

“Ginny?”

She didn’t answer. He began to sweat. The Prewett temper burned hot. This icy silence was even worse. Maybe this was the Weasley temper about to be unleashed. Moments passed in agonizing stillness. Draco could hear his own heart beating rapidly. The tension was awful. At any moment Ginny would raise her wand and dismember him into a tidy pile of organs and parts. He hoped the protective cup he was wearing would be enough to guard his bits from her hexes.

“Why?” she asked at last.

“Opportunity. He needed to get rid of it and he happened across you. If Ron hadn’t picked a fight with Harry, he wouldn’t have been able to slip it into your cauldron.”

“Sure. Okay.” Ginny’s voice was flat, almost monotone.

“Ginny, I’m sorry! I didn’t know.”

“When did you know?”

“I only found out recently. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you. It’s not something one brings up casually.”

She turned and walked away.

Draco didn’t like something in her body language.

“Ginny? Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer.

Draco felt himself start to panic. Was she breaking up with him? Was this the end for them?

“Ginny!”

She didn’t look back.

Draco collapsed to his knees, cursing his miserable life.


	26. Tradition

Ginny wandered through the train in a daze after receiving a tremendous shock. She passed other students but didn’t even notice them. When she came back to herself, she was at the last car staring out the window. She pulled open the door and stepped out onto the rear deck. The wind whipped her mane of red hair around and pulled at her robes. Trees rushed past in a blur.

_ How could Draco not tell me? How could he? He knows how much the diary screwed up my head. _

Losing their brothers had drawn them together. She and Draco had leaned on each other, drawing comfort from their shared pain. They’d talked about practically everything. She’d told him about what Tom had done to her, how he had used her and defiled her. It was the worst thing she’d ever experienced, and it had taken over a year before she’d started to feel normal again.

Draco’s confession ripped the emotional wounds open again, and now she screamed as loud as she could, the wind snatching away the sound. Her hands were clenched into fists as she shrieked out her rage and pain. Ginny didn’t cry. She couldn’t cry. She knew on some level that she probably should have shed a few tears, but she felt nothing. 

Visions played in her mind’s eye. She had crept into the chickenhouse in the middle of the night and killed the rooster, not once but three times. She was siccing the basilisk on Muggleborns. Hermione Granger lay dead on the floor. She cast the Body Crush Curse on Draco, her brothers watching with horrified expressions at her use of such Dark magic.

_ I really want to cast it on him again. How in the name of all that is decent could he keep something this big from me and still kiss me? Ugh, I feel so dirty. I can’t wait to get home and take a shower. I can’t believe I let him put his hands on me. Stupid, stupid, stupid Ginny! How often have you been warned about Malfoys? You didn’t want to listen. You knew better. Well done, genius. Ugh, Ron was right. Ugh! I’m never going to hear the end of it. _

Ginny sank down and pulled her knees up to her chest. She sighed deeply and glanced down at the Slytherin crest on her robes. _What the hell am I doing here? Do I have any friends at all?_ _It’s not like Gryffindor was any better. No, at least they were honest about not liking me._

She stayed out there for hours, ignoring the rumbling in the pit of her stomach. The sun slowly crossed the sky, turning the sky crimson and purple as the train arrived at King’s Cross station. She waited until the train had mostly cleared out before returning to the compartment and retrieving her bag.

As she hopped off the train, she noticed that there weren’t very many people still on the platform. She spied Ron waiting impatiently with George.

“Finally,” Ron said sourly when she approached. “You and Malfoy finally finish snogging?”

“Hi, George,” she said, ignoring Ron and giving the twin a hug.

“How are you, Gin?” He tousled her hair.

She shoved his hands away. “Fine. Where’s your better half?”

“George is at the shop. Someone has to keep an eye on the shifty employees.”

Despite herself, Ginny grinned. “Aren’t you and Fred the only employees?”

George shook his head. “Charlie’s been helping us out since he’s on leave, but he’s very shifty indeed.”

“You ready to go?” Ron demanded.

“Got a hot date tonight?” George asked slyly.

Ron flushed. “What if I do?” he said defensively.

“I’m proud of you, little brother,” George said, wiping away a fake tear. “All grown up and dating now. I never thought this day would come.”

He turned even redder. “Knock it off. You sound like Mum.”

That comment drew a shudder. “I’ve brought the Anglia,” he said, changing the subject. “We can go anytime.”

Ron perked up, and his entire attitude changed. “Can I drive?”

“Sure, you can chauffer us around,” George granted graciously. “Ginny, you mind if I join you in the back seat?”

_ It’s a horrible idea, but if I die in a crash, then at least I won’t have to figure out what to do with my life after the holiday.  _ “Whatever.”

Ginny missed George’s worried look as she took the first run at the barrier out to the Muggle part of the platform. She didn’t wait on her brothers, striding toward the street.

_ Maybe if Ron’s driving he’ll be too preoccupied to ask me about Malfoy. _

* * *

George watched his little sister exit the magical part of the platform with a fair amount of concern. She was not nearly as engaging as usual. She tried to hide it, but he could tell there was something bothering her, something big. She wasn’t acting like she had broken up with Draco Malfoy, something he would dearly love to see.

_ I’ll just have to make sure she laughs a lot on the ride home. Laughter is the best medicine and heals most ills. Food cures the rest. Mum will take one look at her and start filling a plate. She’s been cooking all day. _

“Do you know how to drive, Ronniekins?” George asked patronizingly. “Controls, signs, et cetera?”

“Yes, yes,” Ron said impatiently. “Green means go, red means stop, don't hit the muggles, and the big circle signs have something to do with speed.”

George glanced at Ginny, who was two seconds from walking to Diagon Alley to get the Floo home, before shrugging and tossing the keys to Ron; who promptly failed to catch them, causing them to rattle off the tarmac.

“Nice start, Ronniekins.”

“Shut up.” Ron hastily recovered the keys, before excitedly climbing into the driver's seat and firing up the old girl. Ginny quietly climbed into the back seat, resigning herself to her fate, while George climbed in behind Ron and quickly talked him through the Anglia's controls and reminded him to drive on the left.

Ron engaged first gear with a loud grinding noise, before setting off in with a loud squeal and a puff of oily blue smoke from the car's exhaust.  Ron was a horrible driver. He couldn’t seem to drive in a straight line. He was continually moving the steering wheel.  He quickly got up to speed and starting to weave in and out of traffic, cutting up busses and other cars as he made his way out of London.

“Not bad, little brother,” commented George. “Ginny's even beginning to look less likely to be sick.”

Ron glanced in the rear-view mirror at his sister, who looked almost comfortable in the back seat. He smiled at her and received a 'Watch where you're going' look in reply, just as he blasted through a red light, narrowly missing several cars.

“Bit close there,” said a white-knuckled George. “Gin, let me know if you want me to Side-Along you out of here.”

“Everyone’s a critic. Relax, will you?” Ron said irritably. “Not like anyone was hurt.”

Several times they crossed onto the right side of the road and nearly hit oncoming cars. The blare of honking horns was deafening. They nearly took out a row of post boxes and a hedge.

“Stay in the lane!” George yelped.

Even the Muggles couldn’t fail to notice this reckless activity, and a police car was soon behind them with the blue lights flashing.

“What’s going on?” Ron yelped, turning to look and causing the car to drift into the other lane again.

“Watch the road!” George roared. “It’s the Muggle Aurors. They want you to stop the car.”

Ron’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because you don’t know how to drive!” Ginny yelled.

“I’m driving now, aren’t I?”

“Barely!” she snapped.

“Pull over! Pull to the side of the road and stop the car,” came the voice of the policeman.

“How are Muggles doing a Sonorus Charm?” Ron said.

“Don’t ask stupid questions!” George yelped. “Do what he says!”

Ron applied the brake too quickly, and the car jerked to a sudden stop. George and Ginny went tumbling off the seat onto the floor while Ron smacked his head on the steering wheel.

“Ow! Now what?”

He nervously sat and waited for the police. The officers approached the car, both with one hand on their truncheons. The older of the two, who sported a mane of black hair with a neatly trimmed moustache bent over as he reached the driver's window, before rapping his knuckles on the glass.

“Roll down the window,” he ordered.

Ron did, cranking the handle as quickly as he could.

The officer leaned down and peered inside. “Son, how much have you had to drink today?”

“Nothing, sir,” Ron replied.

The man cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. “Nothing? Then why were you all over the road like that? We got dozens of complaints about you.”

“From who?” Ron thought his driving was good, but George knew how wrong he was.

“Anyone who saw you, most like,” said the second officer. 

The first officer spoke again. “License. Registration. Proof of insurance.”

Ron was perplexed by the requests. “What?”

The second officer frowned. “You do have a license, don’t you, son?”

The first chuckled. “He might not. What’s going on, kids? You decide to take your dad’s car out for a spin while he wasn’t home?”

“Dad knows we have the car, right, George?” Ron said worriedly.

George nodded emphatically. “If he doesn’t, Mum does.”

“Why don’t the three of you step out of the car,” the first officer suggested. “We’ll have your parents come down to the station and sort this whole mess out.”

“Parents?” Ron said weakly.

“Station?” George said suspiciously.

“I’m bringing you in for driving without a license,” the officer said ominously. “That’s a very serious charge.”

Ron slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and the car leaped away with a roar. The two startled officers were stunned for a moment, but they ran back to their vehicle and jumped in to begin the pursuit.

“Go! Go! Go!” George urged.

“What the hell was that, Ron?” shouted Ginny.

“I panicked, alright?”  Ron screamed. “Didn't fancy getting arrested!  What do we do?”

“Lose them!” Ginny shrieked.

“How?” he roared back.

George swore profusely as he climbed into the front seat. “Let me drive.”

Ron turned left, the police on their tail. “What?”

George slid over and grabbed the wheel. He stuck his foot down on the accelerator. “Okay, I’ve got it. Get in the back.”

Ron extricated his long legs and flopped into the back seat with Ginny.

“Hang on!”

George knew how to drive well, and under his steady hands they pulled ahead of the police car. The little engine should not have been able to outpace the more powerful car, but Dad had made a number of upgrades. He turned an impossibly tight corner, scooted down a narrow alley, turned into a wide, empty lane, and hit the invisibility booster. George would have liked to take to the skies, but he didn’t know if he could do that without the invisibility booster going wonky.

The police burst out of the alley a moment later. They went by at a high rate of speed, sirens screaming. The magic had held.

“Close one,” George said, realizing that he had broken out in a nervous sweat. He had yet to see the inside of a gaol cell and desired greatly to keep it that way.

“Too close,” Ginny said in a strained voice. “Please, let’s go home.”

George nodded, suddenly exhausted. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Gin. I think that we’ve had enough fun for one day.”

* * *

The next day was Easter Sunday. Percy’s wedding was on Wednesday, and everyone was wrapped up in the preparations. It wasn’t easy to deal with the entire family under normal circumstances, and to combine a holiday with a big to-do like a wedding was the brink of insanity.

The family was growing. Not only was Percy getting married, but Bill’s fiancée Fleur Delacour was there, which added a whole other level of stress. He had started bringing her around during the summer. Mum had been thrilled that another one of her boys was finally bringing a girl home to meet her, at least at first. On her first visit, she had pronounced the Burrow ‘quaint’ and ‘nice’. Mum hadn’t liked her tone, for the Weasley matriarch’s reply was noticeably frostier than her greeting. Mum wasn’t too keen on Fleur, and, though she was past the stage of inviting alternative women to dinner in the hope of catching Bill’s eye, she had yet to warm up to the woman her son had chosen.

Fleur had asked Mum to teach her how to cook, and Mum couldn’t say no. She wanted her baby boy to eat properly, didn’t she? Her firstborn’s wife needed to know how to take care of him.

The lessons had not been going well. 

“Fleur, dear, you don’t want to add seasoning to the water. It’s better to add it to the noodles after they’re boiled. That way you use much less of it.”

“But of course, Molly,” Fleur said with a perfect smile. “I was only preparing them, lining them up for when I will need them.”

Mum replied sweetly, “It saves counter space to not take things out until you need them.”

“I will simply make the counter larger.” Fleur took out her wand. With a wave, the counter tripled in length.

“I find that I have more than enough counter space,” Mum said, her smile a bit fixed. “I don’t see the need to take everything out. It means you don’t put it away when you are done, and then you have a large mess to clean up when you’re through cooking. If you clean as you go, when you finish, you’ll be done.”

The two women were so busy being excruciatingly polite to each other that they didn’t notice the flames under the pot suddenly double in intensity. High emotion caused unpredictable magical effects, and there was enough tension in the kitchen to launch the moon from a catapult.

Suddenly smoke began pouring up to the ceiling. Ginny jumped in and levitated the pot and ran outside with it. The sounds of an epic row followed her out the door. In her current state, she didn’t really want to witness a fight.

She stayed outside, tossing scratch to the chickens, petting a few of them, doing her best to not think too deeply. When the yelling had been over for a while, she went back up to the house and found Mum ranting under her breath while she supervised the dishes.

“The nerve of that girl. She burns water and tries to make it my fault? I knew this was a horrible idea. She’s so wrong for him, and I can’t make him see it.”

“Hey, Mum,” Ginny said, sitting down at the table.

“Oh, Ginevra!” Mum jumped a bit. “How are you?”

_ Where do I start?  _ “Oh, I’ve been so much better, but that’s not important now. What were you saying about Fleur?”

“Ginny, of course your problems are important!” Mum tapped the kettle and set it to boiling and summoned tea from the cabinet. She sat down and the water poured itself. “What’s wrong, dear?”

Ginny did not want to talk about her own problems. “What’s wrong is the way you’re talking about Fleur. I take it you don’t approve.”

Mum scowled. “They’re rushing into this. They’ve only known each other less than two years. Marriage? They’re too young.”

“They’re older than you and Dad were.” Ginny couldn’t help but feel Mum was holding two different standards for herself and for her children.

Mum shot her a wounded look. “That’s what he said to me last night. Whose side are you on, here?”

Ginny sighed. “I don’t know. I want Bill to be happy, and I know he’s an adult who can make his own decisions. I just don’t like it when I don’t agree with his decisions. He’s my favourite brother sometimes. I look up to him, and it’s hard to watch him make what I think is a mistake.”

Mum heaved a great sigh. “It is hard to let my baby go.”

“He’s the eldest, Mum.”

“He’s still my baby,” Mum said firmly. “For a time, he was my only baby.”

As the youngest of seven, Ginny found it impossible to envision the Burrow with only Mum, Dad, and baby William. “I can’t imagine that.”

“I remember those days like they were yesterday,” Mum said with a far-away look. “I just want to know that he’ll be well-taken care of, and I worry that Fleur won’t be able to care for him properly.”

“Like you would,” Ginny prompted.

Mum nodded. “Yes, like I would. You’ll understand one day, dear. It’s hard to let go.”

“It’s the way of children to grow up, Mum. Look at me. I’m fifteen, less than two years away from majority.”

“I try not to think about it. Bad enough that you’re dating that Malfoy boy.”

Ginny tried not to flinch, but Mum caught it.

“Oh, trouble with Draco?” she said gently.

“I’m not ready to talk about it, Mum.”

Mum looked like she wanted to press, but she sipped at her tea instead. “Well, when you’re ready.”

“I will. Promise.” She turned back to the original subject. “So why does she have to be both beautiful  _ and _ smart?”

Ginny and the twins had given Fleur the nickname Phlegm. They hadn’t liked her aloofness. She’d also tried to convince Ginny to wear this horrid dress for her wedding. She’d asked Ginny to stand with her because she didn’t have many female friends.

Truthfully, Ginny felt a bit intimidated by Fleur. The Slytherin girls spent a lot of time talking about boobs and hips and how each girl stacked up against every other girl in the castle. There was a list that was frequently updated. She was only average in each area. Draco had appreciated her figure, but his opinion meant nothing to her now. She’d put the breakup completely out of her mind for the time being.

The French witch was stunningly beautiful, literally. She was a quarter-veela, and even that much was enough to cause most males to become drooling idiots in her presence (especially Ron!). On top of her supernatural allure, she was tall, thin, and had gorgeous, flowing, platinum blonde hair. She’d grown it out to reach her elbows, and it never seemed to get in her way. Her other attributes were to be envied as well.

Fleur was also a top student at Beauxbatons and had been that school’s champion in the recent Triwizard Tournament. She was a formidable spellcaster. She was amazingly quick, even when speaking the words. Once she’d mastered non-verbal casting, she’d become unstoppable.

Ginny felt out-witched.

Mum squeezed her hand. “Sometimes people are born lucky. You’re still a very pretty girl. I’m sure you have to hex the boys every so often to keep them under control.”

“My Bat-Bogey Hex is somewhat legendary.” It had gotten her invited to the Slug Club.

They talked of small matters for awhile, and Ginny felt much better. When Mum was calm, she was terrific. When she got mad, it was best to run for the hills.

* * *

The day before the wedding was the rehearsal, and Harry was beginning to feel like an old hand at these sorts of things. 

The groom’s party consisted of Percy, Elan as best man, with Bill, Charlie, and Harry as groomsmen. To Harry’s surprise, he’d been paired up with Ginny. The groom had many more suitable friends, so they’d put Ginny on the bride’s side to even things out. 

“Hey,” he said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Are you some kind of comedian?”

“Why, am I funny?”

“I’m sure someone thinks so.”

The actual rehearsal was fairly orderly. Molly Weasley ran everything like she was a theatre director (or a drill sergeant, as Bill whispered). After they’d gone through all the movements four times perfectly, she seemed satisfied at last.

“Well, if we’re finished here, I’d like to invite you all down to the Three Broomsticks. I’ve had a small dinner prepared.”

Business at the inn had improved steadily ever since Molly had taken over the kitchen. Madam Rosmerta was seen sporting several new outfits, and she was even talking about enlarging the building.

She called it dinner, but it was more like a feast. The amount of food rivalled a house table at Hogwarts. There was beef, chicken, pork, a host of vegetables, loaves and loaves of bread, fresh churned butter, and a fine spread of cheeses.

Molly was probably the best cook Harry had ever experienced. She rivalled the house elves at Hogwarts. Every new dish sent Harry’s eyes rolling back in his head with delight at the exquisite tastes.

Only the actual wedding party was there. Ginny sat with Harry and her brothers. Harry was glad for the opportunity to get to know Bill and Charlie a bit better. Aside from a few brief encounters, they were strangers to him. 

“Engaged?” Harry said, pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah,” said Bill, practically glowing with joy. “Fleur’s a wonderful girl, you know.”

“She is,” Harry agreed. He had exchanged owls with Fleur once a month or so for awhile now. He had nothing but respect for his fellow Triwizard champion and was thinking about inviting her to join his Order. He would have to get to know Bill better and evaluate his potential as well.

Charlie had taken a leave of absence from the dragon ranch to come home and protect his family. Harry had last seen him at Remus and Tonks’ wedding. He was quite pleased they were on the same side of the aisle this time.

“I’m really glad Ron isn’t here,” Ginny noted. “He’d probably be yelling at you for looking at me or breathing the same air as him.”

“Or eating all the food,” Harry replied. 

She nodded in agreement. “I am sorry about him.”

“He was a problem for me long before you decided to join Slytherin.” He didn’t want to discuss the abrasive boy and changed the subject. “So what’s with you and Draco? He says you had a fight.”

Ginny forced a smile. “We’re over. If he hasn’t realized that, please tell him.”

“What? Why?”

“None of your business, Harry,” she snapped. Bill looked over and frowned at Harry.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t pry.” Draco would tell him later.

She sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be curt. I don’t want to talk about him, okay?”

Harry didn’t want to push her to talk if she wasn’t ready. “Sure. So your brother is going to marry Fleur, huh?”

Her scowl returned. “Don’t want to talk about her either.”

Harry blinked. Ginny was clearly bothered, but he sensed she wasn’t receptive to anything too deep. “Okay, what do you want to talk about? How is OWL year?”

She shook her head. “Miserable. Tell me about your last tea with Professor Slughorn.”

_ Sure, I’ll tell you all about Professor Snape as a little boy.  _ Harry shuddered. “I’d rather not talk about that.” He was still trying to process the fact that the Potions Master and his mother had been childhood friends.

She laughed. “We’re not sinking any Quaffles today, are we? Okay. How about Quidditch?”

Harry nodded rapidly. “Yeah, that’s good. Quidditch. So how are practices going?”

* * *

Ginny felt extremely out of place in the bridal party.

Percy had wanted her to stand up with him. He was her favourite brother sometimes. He’d gone from being a prattish, book-loving boy with a badge to a confident young man and the youngest Ministry department head since there had been a Ministry. He’d found real friends, and another five (at least) additional friends could have stood up with him today.

Lynn Fawcett was not a social creature like her best friend, the matron of honour, Bridget Malfoy née Sawyer. She didn’t have hordes of friends to draw on, and certainly not many she wanted standing with her when she got married.

When Lynn’s parents had heard that Percy wanted a female to stand up with him, they nearly had synchronized heart attacks. They objected, because if Ginny stood up with Percy, then her escort would have to be on Lynn’s side. Lynn didn’t want any boys in her bridal party. When Ginny had sourly suggested that she had no problem being escort to a girl, Lynn’s parents had reached for the smelling salts.

Percy had been under intense pressure from his soon-to-be in-laws. The math just wasn’t working. It didn’t help that their own mother was against Ginny being up there with Percy. Only when Percy had suggested bumping Elan down to a simple groomsman and having Ginny be the best maid did the Fawcetts seem willing to compromise. They decided that Ginny would be in the bridal party, still there to support her brother, but attending her soon-to-be sister-in-law.

Still, it was bloody, hindering awkward not really knowing any of the others when they left the rehearsal dinner. To maximize preparation time in the morning, the bridal party was spending the night at the Fawcett estate. Lynn, Bridget, and Maddy Fitzjean were all Percy’s age and had stayed close friends after Hogwarts. The other bridesmaid was Sarah Fawcett, Lynn’s cousin, a Ravenclaw getting ready to take her NEWTs. Sarah’s younger sister Faith was the flower girl, and Ginny thought she was simply adorable.

After Faith had been tucked into bed, the other girls sat around sipping white wine. Ginny knew her mother would flip out if she knew and made sure to drink a lot. If she was going to get in trouble, she wanted to deserve it.

Bridget was not drinking wine, merely white grape juice.

“But you love pinot grigio!” Lynn protested.

Bridget looked around to make sure she had everyone’s attention. “I’m pregnant,” she announced.

Lynn and Maddy shrieked, setting Ginny’s ears to ringing.

“Already?” Maddy demanded.

“When are you due?” Lynn asked breathlessly.

Bridget smiled. “The end of August.”

“That’s not far off.”

“Not really, no.”

“Congratulations!” Maddy said. “Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?”

“Not yet. Elan wants a boy, of course, but I get the feeling it might be a girl.”

“A whole new generation of Malfoys,” Ginny said, unable to keep her contempt out of her voice.

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?” Bridget said dangerously.

“Nothing,” Ginny said, cursing her slip of the tongue. She reached for her wineglass and knocked it over.

“Bad form, Ginny,” Lynn said, handing her a towel.

“Sorry.” She cleaned up the spill.

“Alcohol abuse. You get to have a glass of water.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, accepting it.

The other girls talked about a lot of things. Ginny stopped paying attention to the conversation when Bridget started giving marital advice. She had another glass of wine, then another. The room started to go out of focus.

She didn’t remember passing out at Bridget’s feet.

Her hangover the next morning was mitigated by the water she’d consumed, but it was still something fierce. Fortunately there was a remedy waiting for her.

Lynn and Fleur Delacour had taken to each other immediately. Percy wasn’t at all besotted by Fleur’s veela charm, which earned him high marks from Lynn and let her be friendly with Fleur. Fleur had volunteered to do Lynn’s hair. Fleur arrived promptly at seven o’clock to begin doing hair and makeup.

Ginny was distracted all through the wedding by how handsome Harry looked in his tuxedo robes. She was having trouble focusing, and he was very pleasant to watch. She barely paid attention through the ceremony and was startled when the music began to play.

Percy and Lynn turned and walked down the aisle together. Elan kissed his wife’s hand, offered her his arm, and escorted her after the happy couple. Bill and Maddy went next, followed by Charlie and Sarah. She linked arms with Harry, and they went last.

Only the bride and groom waited in the receiving line. The rest of the wedding party made its way to the reception area.

After the new couple had their first dance, the entire wedding party joined them.

“Having fun?” Harry inquired.

“Actually, yes.”

“Good.”

“You?”

“Definitely.” He paused for a moment. “So I told Draco it was over between you two.”

She tried not to tense up. “Thanks.”

“He told me what it was about.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really sorry, Ginny.”

“Not your fault. Not like you knew.” She noted his guilty face. “You did know. Oh my stars. Are you kidding me? You knew about that and didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted to. I thought you should know, but it wasn’t my place to tell you. Not yet. I told him if he didn’t, then I would, but I wanted to give him a chance to do the right thing. I’m glad he finally did.”

Ginny felt her sudden anger evaporate. “Thank you, then. If you hadn’t pushed him into it, who knows if he’d have ever told me? He’s slime.”

“That’s your brother talking.”

“Yeah, he’s not thrilled I’m paired with you either.”

“You can say that again.”

“He’s not thrilled I’m paired with you either.”

Harry chuckled. Ron was prowling the edges of the crowd, glaring at Harry.

Ginny danced with all her brothers. George was the perceptive one who noticed that she was not quite herself.

“Wanna spill, little sister?”

“About what?”

“About what’s bothering you. You haven’t been right since you’ve gotten home.”

“You’ve been working round the clock at the store. We almost never see you. You rarely come home.”

George winced, hearing their mother’s words in Ginny’s mouth. “Low blow, Gin.”

“I’m fine. Just feeling a bit under the weather.”

Thankfully George didn’t ask anymore questions. Fred would have. He was the pushier of the pair.

They had the father-daughter dance, and Lynn’s father gracefully swept her around the floor.

They had the mother-son dance, and Mum and Percy didn’t get nearly so elaborate. She cried through the whole thing, and Dad approached several times with more tissues.

Without waiting, they moved onto the tossing of the bouquet. Maddy caught it again.

Lynn cheered loudly. “You’re next, Maddy!”

“That’s what we thought at Bridget’s wedding!”

Percy had taken the plunge first. Ginny knew that Bill was already planning his wedding, but she wondered which of her brothers would follow.  _ It certainly won’t be me. _

* * *

Thanks to Teufel1987 and David P. for helping out with the British police.


	27. Exposed

**** Harry and Tracy had just settled into a hot and heavy kiss when they heard the sound of a bag hitting the floor. “Oh my goodness!” came a startled voice. 

They had taken a detour on the way back from Apparition class, going for a walk in the dungeons, and wound up in a potions laboratory. Nobody was supposed to be using this room during this time. Nobody was supposed to disturb them. They’d locked the door.

He broke away and turned to see Michelle Holt standing there wide-eyed, her hands clapped to her mouth. Harry groaned. “Michelle, what are you doing here?” he demanded sharply.

The younger girl cowered. “I was going to do a little brewing. I want to be ready for the practical portion of the OWL. What are you doing?”

_ I really hate stupid questions.  _ “What does it look like we’re doing?”

“It looks like you’re about to start pulling off clothes,” she said with a trace of snark.

“You would think that,” Tracy said, buttoning her blouse. She tapped her hair with her wand and her blonde curls looked freshly done.

_ She’s so pretty. How can I get Michelle to go away so we can get back to snogging? _

Michelle looked back and forth between them. “How long has this been going on?”

Tracy glared at her. “What’s it to you, Holt?”

Michelle held up her hands as if to ward off a blow. “Just curious. Don’t get so defensive. Can I use this lab or not? Academic pursuits take precedence over social ones, right?”

_ She does have a point, and I don’t much feel like having her watch.  _ “Enjoy your brewing,” Harry said curtly, taking Tracy’s hand. “Come on, Tracy.”

Once they were in the hall, Tracy said something very impolite. “We’re busted. She’s going to tell everyone.”

Harry knew how the gossip network worked at Hogwarts. “Can we stop her?”

Tracy shook her head. “Probably not. She’s been threatened with some pretty horrible things over the past couple of years. I’m not as creative as Pansy. I doubt I could get Michelle to listen to me.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, we knew we were going to be found out sooner or later.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be like this.” She sounded regretful.

“Maybe we can just deny it,” Harry suggested. “Say she’s trying to make trouble.”

Tracy squeezed his hand. “No, I’m tired of sneaking around.”

“What about Voldemort?” he asked gently.

“I’m not afraid of Voldemort,” she replied. “If he wants to try and use me against you, don’t let him.” He made to interrupt, but she hushed him. “I release you here and now from any obligation to save me, rescue me, or otherwise attempt some foolhardy, half-plotted scheme on my behalf.”

Her bravery was humbling but totally irrelevant. “I wish I could say that sorts it, Tracy, but I could never abandon you to his mercy. He has none. I don’t want to see any more of my friends die in this damned war. I’d come save you even if you weren’t my girlfriend.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “You still know all the right things to say,” she gasped before she kissed him again.

Their friends cornered Harry the next day. Harry looked around at them and knew what they were on about. He resigned himself for at least twenty minutes of disagreement and argument.

“Wotcher, mates,” he said cheekily. “Lovely weather we’re having today. See the Gryffindor drills last night? Heard Weasley caught bludgy, took a toshby, feathered back on his sammy, and took a spill in a dirt bath.”

Draco ignored his banter. “What’s this about you and Tracy? I hear Michelle Holt caught you two in a compromising situation in the potions lab.”

Harry gave up on deflection and shrugged. “We got back together.”

“And when were you going to tell us?” Theo demanded. “I’ve been telling you to get back with Tracy for months.”

“I know,” Harry said mildly. “We just didn’t want to advertise it. That’s all.”

Theo gaped at him. “Why not? Then you wouldn’t have had Pansy all over you for the past few months. Surely you can’t actually like that.”

“Shut your uncouth mouth, Nott!” Pansy snarled.

Theo smirked at her. “You’re the one with the mouth, Pansy, and the tongue, from what I hear.”

Pansy turned back to Harry. “You two didn’t work before. You’re not going to work now.” 

Theo snorted. “People grow and change, Pansy. They mature. They didn’t work before because they weren’t ready for it. A second try will be different.”

She rounded on Theo and scathingly demanded, “When did you become an expert in affairs of the heart?”

“When did you?” he retorted nastily.

Theo and Pansy started wrangling, as they were wont to do. She instinctively disagreed with everything he said. Daphne put up a Privacy Charm for everyone else’s sake.

“So I don’t understand why you two were sneaking around. Why not tell us?” Daphne sounded confused and hurt.

Harry tried to explain. “Because sooner or later Voldemort is going to find out and use her against me.”

“Like he wouldn’t use any of us against you,” Draco scoffed. “Like he hasn’t already tried to do with some of us.”

“I know. We haven’t been very demonstrative, because we don’t know who his agent is in the school. I don’t know who might feed this information back to him, so it’s imperative that we keep it quiet.”

“Fat chance of that, thanks to Holt,” Daphne observed. “She never got her bottle of Felix Felicis back, and I think I’m really glad of that. She’s putting Tracy’s life in danger.”

“I’m not afraid,” Tracy said, approaching the group. She took Harry’s hand and kissed him solidly on the lips. “I won’t let fear control my life.”

Goyle was not enthusiastic. “Are you sure this is a good thing?”

“Frankly, Goyle, I’m not sure of very much in this crazy world,” Tracy said. “All I do know is that I want to be with Harry and he wants to be with me. Maybe we’ll work it out this time, maybe we won’t, but we’re going to give it a try, because right now is all we may have. Tomorrow morning, Hufflepuffs under Imperius could rise up and kill us all at breakfast. If I wait to do something important, I may never have a chance to do it. Harry is important to me, as are all of you. I want you to know that I love you. We’ve been through a lot together, and you mean the absolute world to me. I don’t want to keep that emotion in check. If I die tomorrow, then I lose the chance to tell you I love you.”

“We love you too, Tracy,” Draco said, stepping forward to give her a hug. “Come on, you’re making this all sloppy. What if someone were to see us? We have an image to maintain, you know. We’re the house of cold-blooded serpents. We have no emotions.”

“That’s crap, and you know it,” she said with a giggle. “Name a Slytherin who keeps control over his emotions.”

“Professor Snape,” Draco answered immediately.

She chortled mirthfully. “Have you  _ seen _ the way he treats Longbottom and Weasley?”

Crabbe cleared his throat. “As long as you two are okay with it, I don’t really see what business it is of ours,” he said indifferently.

“Well, I’m happy for you guys,” Millie said. “All the best.”

“Thank you, Millie,” Tracy said, smiling brightly. “So how is Viktor?”

Millie began to flush and stammer incoherently.

* * *

Remus and Tonks had been married a little more than five months. In that time, he’d discovered his love for her growing every day. To fall asleep with her in his arms felt natural. To wake with her snuggled up closely to him was comforting. As he watched her sleep, he felt all of his emotions churning, and he wanted to protect her from all of the evils in the world. It mattered little that she was a fully qualified Auror with an excellent record. He loved her and would not see her hurt. That was why he so hated the plan they were about to set in motion.

“You don’t have to do this, Dora,” Remus pleaded.

She traced his face with both hands. “Yes, I do, Remus. We haven’t had any luck with other ways to crack the Secret of the old prison. Voldemort’s been in control of the place for almost two years.”

He sighed. “I know. I don’t like the idea of innocent people being held there, subject to the dementors and whatever twisted whims occur to the Death Eaters, any more than you do. But I don’t want to see you suffer that too.”

She hugged him tightly. “It’s a gamble, I know,” she said, her words muffled against his chest. “My Occlumency is top notch, so says Professor Dumbledore. We just have to hope that he won’t want his pet Seer damaged by Cruciatus.”

“Quite a gamble, love,” he said quietly, taking her left hand in his and raising it to his lips.

She released him and stood tall. “I know, but I have the ability to take action, and so it is imperative upon me that I do so. No one else can do this like I can. The chance to feed Voldemort some fake prophecies is unique.”

The Marauder in him couldn’t help but appreciate the magnitude of the mischief.  _ I chose my mate well.  _ “I’d love to be able to see his face for some of them.”

Tonks rolled her eyes back in her head. “The chalice of the heavens floweth over, and the world shall drown in blood unless the Pillar of Storge be found. Only the light of the green-flamed torch shall reveal the path. Mists of dreams drip along the nascent echo and love no more. End of line.”

Remus’ brow was furrowed, trying to even understand all the words. “That is incredibly confusing.”

“That’s the idea. Get him so wrapped up in trying to decypher fake prophecies that we can hit him with the real one.”

“You’re sure you can keep him out of your mind?” he worried.

She was confident. “Absolutely. Dumbledore himself couldn’t tell I was lying. I can make up that blather for days if I have to, but I don’t want to give him too many at once. He’d think I was playing him. I’m going to space things out. I’ll tell him that the Inner Eye does not see upon command. Rot like that.”

He turned interrogator. “How come no one ever knew of your prophecies before?”

She flashed into Trelawney’s form and struck a tragic pose. “The rest of the staff, blind fools they all, find my gift, my Sight, to be intimidating. They cannot stand to know the awful truth of their destinies has already been writ large upon the stars of the heavens! They avoid me, you see, and so no one hears when the voice of prophecy speaks.”

Remus clapped his hands. “Very nice. You may fool him yet. You certainly had me going.”

She stuck out her tongue at him, and since she still looked like the professor, Remus cracked up laughing.

She changed back. “Very nice indeed. You married one heck of an actress, love.”

“Ooh, so you want to play roles for me now?” he said sleazily, giving her a naughty wink. 

“Yes, husband,” she said, her voice husky. “Right now, I want you to pretend I’m your hot, sexy wife, always working doubles because she’s still low on the roster, despite all of these new recruits being lower, because someone needs to babysit their  _ moronic arses _ , with you right here and now and willing to do anything you want.” She writhed up against him. “I have to go to work soon enough. Let us have right now for us.”

_ My wife is not only beautiful, she is a genius. Perhaps an evil genius, at that. _

* * *

Harry had spent a lot of time with various members of the Black family. Sirius, Narcissa, and Andromeda had told him many stories about their childhood, but he was curious to know what their teacher had thought of them. Though he knew Slughorn was getting the benefit of association with Harry Potter, Harry was getting to know so much about his family and their friends. It was a worthwhile exchange to him.

He accepted a cup of tea and several pastries. “Professor Slughorn, we haven’t talked much about Sirius.”

The Potions Master smiled wistfully. “Ah, Sirius. I missed him, you know. I had all the rest of the Black family in Slytherin. Bellatrix, Andromeda, Sirius, Narcissa, and Regulus. Quite the mixed bag. Andromeda went on to be a Healer, as you know, and distinguished herself in the field. Has she ever talked about her publications?”

“No.” All Harry knew was that she was a Healer at St. Mungo’s and that Jamie Davis had apprenticed under her.

Slughorn delighted in knowing things other people did not. It made him feel powerful to have the advantage over them. Harry knew he never told all that he knew.

“She’s published dozens of articles over the years on things related to Healing. She’s even made some very interesting Potions discoveries as well. She could probably be the first Doctor of Healing if she wanted to be. She could just declare it, and no one would argue with her. She’s a fine example of how far one can go in life if you just follow your ambition.”

Harry liked that. It was good to hear ambition discussed positively. Too many used the word to denigrate Slytherin.

“Well, Andromeda ended up eloping with Ted Tonks, a Muggleborn wizard, a Hufflepuff also in her year. Lucius had been betrothed to her, but they passed it to her younger sister Narcissa, who was a year behind them. Well, it turned out that Lucius and Narcissa were really in love. They announced a date almost immediately. Narcissa had barely finished her NEWTs and taken the boat ride back across the lake when she and Lucius tied the knot. I think he might have been waiting for her at the station with a minister. I helped Lucius arrange a long honeymoon in the Pacific islands.” 

Slughorn sighed greatly, suddenly troubled. “Ambition can sometimes be a bad thing, if one pursues unhealthy goals. There were also two Death Eaters in that generation, sadly, and Narcissa married Dark.”

“One Death Eater,” Harry said, not meaning to be as sharp as he sounded.

“Bellatrix, of course,” Slughorn said, nodding his head. “I’m surprised Sirius hasn’t told you. His brother Regulus was a Death Eater as well.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Harry said, trying to be patient. “I mean, he was, but he came to regret it.”

Slughorn sipped at his tea. “I’m sure most Death Eaters have cause to regret their ill-informed choice.”

Harry shoved his plate away. “He really did, though. He turned against Voldemort and-”

“Ah!” Slughorn said, falling back. “Don’t say that name.”

Harry didn’t want to get off his point. “Regulus turned back,” he said emphatically. “He did something that seriously damaged You-Know-Who’s power.”

“Oh yes?” Slughorn said.

“He stole something, something precious.”

Slughorn broke out into a sweat.

“He stole an object that He wanted kept hidden forever.”

Harry kept his eyes locked with Slughorn’s, and the older man could not look away. Harry could sense his Occlumency protection, though it was fitful at best. Slughorn’s emotions were churning, and Harry could feel them. He dearly wished he could cast Legilimens and see the memories for himself. Horace knew something about the Dark objects, and Harry was determined to find out what.

“I think you know what it was, Professor. You had Tom Riddle as a student, didn’t you? Did you help him in some way?”

“No!” Slughorn whispered. “I didn’t help him. He already knew. He had already done it by the time he asked me. He wanted to know the limits of how far he could go. He had already made one. Maybe more than one.”

“Made what, Professor?!” Harry said urgently.

“Horcruxes,” Slughorn said with horror in his voice. “The most cursed Dark magic ever devised.”

_ At last! _ “What does it do?” he demanded.

“It makes you immortal.”

_ Voldemort fears death more than anything.  _ “What do you mean immortal?”

“Or near enough to it.”

“Tell me,” Harry pleaded.

Slughorn shuddered. “No.”

“You must,” he implored.

“No. I cannot,” the old man said with utter self-loathing.

“Professor, I have to know everything. Please,” Harry said urgently. “We’re talking about stopping the most evil wizard ever, the one who murdered my parents, my mother, Lily Evans.” Slughorn flinched at her name. “She was your favourite? Help me avenge her! Help me stop this madness. Help me stop the killing and the war and the fighting. Tell me, please.”

Slughorn was quiet for a long moment. Beads of sweat trickled down his face as the fire crackled. He could not look away, could not break Harry’s gaze. “He came to me after class one day,” he said at last. “He had that new ring of his on. Young men often experiment with jewelry, but this ring was truly magnificent. A family heirloom, he called it.” He laughed without joy. “Quite the joke, since we all knew that Tom had been born in the orphanage. Later on, he claimed to have won it in a wager. Tom often made wagers, and he nearly always won them. He acquired a fair amount of money in that fashion. It wasn’t an altogether implausible story, and nobody ever complained of a ring missing, so it was assumed he had acquired it in some shop during the summer.”

“Professor?” Harry said gently. “He asked you about Horcruxes?”

Slughorn went pale all over again. “He was ‘curious’, he said, ‘from an academic perspective’ what the optimal number would be. I understand you’ve studied Arithmancy?”

_ Is Professor Vector right? Is Arithmancy the key to everything? _ “Yes, sir.”

“What is the most powerful magical number?” He sounded like a professor, years of lecturing reflecting unconsciously in his tone.

Arithmancy was one of Harry’s favourite subjects, despite its difficulty, and he enjoyed number theory. “Five or six, sir. There are strong arguments on both sides.”

Slughorn nodded. “Tom postulated the idea that if one were to make six Horcruxes, that would be stronger than any other number. He would be the seventh piece. While it was once thought to be powerful, seven is a useless number, and it would negate the magic. He should have made only five. Then the piece in him would be the sixth. That arrangement would invoke both five and six and likely be supreme. I was so horrified by the very idea of making even one that I hurried him out as soon as possible.” He sighed, shaking his head ruefully. “I should have realized that if he was capable of asking the question, he was capable of doing the deed.”

“And he’d made one already?” Harry pressed. He had to get the facts. Dumbledore needed to know this information as soon as possible.

“He must have,” Slughorn whispered. “Nobody sane would even ask the question. Nobody who hadn’t already torn his soul would contemplate doing it more than once.”

There was quiet for a moment.

“Sir, may I have your memory of that day?” Harry requested softly.

Still wordlessly, Horace took out a phial from his waistcoat and drew his wand. He pulled the silvery thread from his temple and directed into the phial. He cinched the stopper tightly and handed it to Harry.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said gratefully. Slughorn looked like a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

Harry left the Potions Master in his office, staring into nothing. He hurried directly for Dumbledore’s office. This couldn’t wait.

“Hey, Potter!” yelled a voice from behind him. Harry groaned but didn’t slow down. Zabini didn’t take the hint and fell into step with him.

The returned Slytherin wanted to gossip. “I hear you hooked up with Davis. Good show. She is drop-dead gorgeous. Bet she’s a lot of fun, eh?”

“Not now, Zabini.” Harry was not in any sort of mood to deal with the socially awkward Zabini.

“Oh, where you off to, then?” the other boy asked curiously.

“Mind your business!” Harry snapped.

“Sure are in a great hurry,” Zabini said suggestively.

Harry had had enough. “One more word, and I will start assigning detention.”

Zabini had seen Harry follow through on that threat more than once, and he had finally learned his lesson. He fell silent, but he didn’t go away.

“Zabini, you’re on my last nerve. Piss off before I put you in the hospital wing.”

“I don’t know why I even bother,” Zabini said disgustedly.

“Me either,” Harry snapped. “Go.”

Zabini slouched off. Harry hurried up to Dumbledore’s office, told the password to the gargoyle, and took the spiral stairs two at a time despite their movement. He knocked frantically on the heavy oak door.

The handle glowed white for a moment, turned on its own, and unlatched. Harry opened the door with a sweep of his arm.

“Professor, I have it!” he said triumphantly.

“Yes?” Dumbledore said, looking up from his paperwork.

Harry poured the memory into the pensieve. Together, they viewed what had truly happened that day between Voldemort and Professor Slughorn. It had indeed been Horcruxes, and Voldemort wanted to make six of them.

Dumbledore stroked his beard with satisfaction. “Excellent. Truly excellent work, Harry. I don’t know how you managed to convince him, but you may have saved us all. We knew he planned to make more than one. Now we know he wanted to make six. Thus we at last know how many relics we still have yet to find. Six!”

“We know of five. The diary, the locket, the ring, the cup, and we presume something of Ravenclaw’s,” Harry ticked off. “We must discover what that thing is.”

“In time,” Dumbledore demurred. “The what is not so important as the where. The evil nature of the Horcruxes will make them apparent.”

“What might it be?” Harry persisted.

“I see you will not be deterred. The only known relic of Rowena Ravenclaw is her diadem of wisdom. It was lost almost nine hundred years ago.”

“Could he have found something of Gryffindor’s? That would give him one from each Founder.”

“Possibly, though unlikely. The only surviving thing of Godric Gryffindor aside from the Sorting Hat itself is his sword, and that sits in a case right over there. It is no Horcrux.”

“What about the Sorting Hat?”

Dumbledore chortled merrily. “An ingenious notion, my boy. Let us ask it.”

“I’ve been listening to everything, Albus,” the hat said from its honored place up on the shelf. “I assure you, I am  _ not _ a Horcrux.”

“Ah, but you would say that, wouldn’t you?” Dumbledore said, still chuckling. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Rowena’s diadem is, would you?”

“As I have answered you so many times before, Albus, I do not.”

“No one seems to, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore said with a great sigh. “I have no proof that Tom managed to find it, but it is in line with his arrogance. As for the sixth Horcrux, I believe it to be his snake, Nagini. From all accounts, he is protective of her. Why should Voldemort, who cares naught for any living thing, concern himself with this mere reptile?”

Harry considered the question. “That makes sense, sir. Doesn’t he have her with him at all times? That would keep her protected, but he couldn’t hold everything with him. We know he hid the others. Where would he have hidden the Ravenclaw item? As to where? Could it be here in the school?”

Dumbledore nodded. “It is a possibility. I have searched the school many times, but I could not find the Chamber of Secrets either.”

Harry and Dumbledore discussed the possible locations of the remaining Horcrux for nearly an hour. In the end, they could come to no definite answers.

“I shall do more research,” the headmaster promised. “In the meantime, best continue your studies.”

* * *

 

When Millie had signed up for Care of Magical Creatures, she had hoped to be petting unicorns. After all, the class was about magical creatures, not great dangerous beasts. Professor Hagrid had inflicted many things upon them of a classification the Ministry found disapproving. When Professor Umbridge was appointed Security Officer, she had removed Hagrid. Once she had been removed from the school, Headmaster Dumbledore had reinstated him, citing a lack of qualified replacements. The esteemed Professor Grubbly-Plank had been killed in a Death Eater attack, mourned by all who didn’t want to risk life and limb at every lesson.

Hagrid was not overly chastened by his suspension. He now showed them a creature of XXXX classification: an acromantula.

It was, thankfully, dead. While Millie normally liked spiders and thought the chance to see such a big one up close and personal was quite tally, she felt a bit put out at being forced to attend the thing’s funeral.

“Ol’ Aragog, he were m’friend!” Hagrid sobbed, blowing noisily into his enormous white handkerchief. “I raised him from practically straight out of his egg. I kept him in me school trunk. Got in a bit o’ trouble when the prefects found out. Got me expelled about it. Aragog, he ran off inter the forest. I found him later on, brought him food. I’ taken good care o’ him.”

Aragog was huge. He was easily ten feet in the body, and his legs were as thick as trees. It was terrifying dead. It was sure to have been hideously horrible in life.

Millie broke her gaze with a shudder. “I wouldn’t want that thing chasing me, that’s for sure.”

Crabbe nodded. “That thing has been living in the forest for the past fifty years, and the only one who knew about it was  _ Hagrid _ ?”

“That’s a terrifying thought,” Goyle said. “I wonder what else he’s got hiding in there.”

“There was that giant last year,” Millie recalled. “Actually, I don’t think we ever heard about it going anywhere. It’s probably still there.”

“Giants. Magnificent,” Goyle said dryly.

“He bred those blast-ended skrewts,” Millie recalled. “Who knows what else is out here?”

“I hate those things,” Crabbe chimed in.

“Anyone with half a brain hates them,” Millie said scornfully.

“Ssh!” hissed Seamus Finnigan. “Show a little respect.”

“Respect for a dead arachnid?” she scoffed. “Something that would likely eat me if it were alive right now? You are mad.”

“She’s right,” Ron Weasley said, turning green. “I hate to agree with a Slytherin, but this is absurd. This is our lecture for the day? I’m out of here.”

Hagrid was sobbing too hard to notice any of the students who followed Weasley back to the castle.

“Can you believe that?” Weasley said. He still looked like he was about to sick up all over himself.

“All right, Weasley?” Goyle said. “Got a problem with funerals?”

“Nah, he’s with spiders,” Crabbe said. “That was a bit gargantuan, wasn’t it, Weasley? Did you see those giant mandibles? The pincers? He could cut you right in half and gobble down the pieces.”

Weasley rushed behind a boulder and began to retch.

“Gross!” Lavender Brown said.

“Good thing it’s before lunch, Weasley!” Goyle called out. “Now you’ll have plenty of room.”

 


	28. Crossing The Line

**** The school year was almost over. 

Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff on the Quidditch pitch, which was good for them. Millie led the Slytherin team to a narrow victory over Ravenclaw, which meant that Slytherin took back the Quidditch Cup. Millie would go down in history not only as the first female captain of the team but also as one who brought the Cup back home. They had such a good party that many house members didn’t make it to breakfast the next morning.

More importantly, Harry was still no closer to figuring out who was Voldemort’s agent in Hogwarts. He knew in his guts that there had to be one. Those two members of Dumbledore’s Order hadn’t succumbed to their injuries. Harry had too much faith in Madam Pomfrey to believe it. More importantly, Snape believed it. Though Voldemort hadn’t divulged the agent’s name, he had dropped enough hints for Snape to form his conclusion. He often reminded Harry to be mindful.

Harry had many suspects, but he had no ultimate proof. He needed proof in order to act. He was a prefect and the captain of the duelling club. He could not go making baseless accusations. He was trying to unite people against Voldemort, not divide them. It was why he’d allowed Tori to run loose in the castle. He wanted to know if anyone was getting wind of his Order, but also who in the castle was up to no good.

Blaise Zabini? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something just felt off about the returned Slytherin. So far as Harry could tell, nobody really liked him. Maybe it was the annoying habit he had of calling everyone by absurd nicknames. Maybe it was how he tried to insert himself into conversations. He had staged a few harmless pranks in the dormitory, trying to get Harry and the lads to loosen up. His efforts had failed miserably. Had there not been a war on, Harry might have been amused and warmed up to the boy, but he had learned from Professor Moody not to trust anyone.

Michelle Holt? She’d won a bottle of Felix Felicis at the beginning of the year, and it had been stolen by Halloween, supposedly. They’d all been of the opinion that she was just looking for attention, but then Tracy’s phial had gone missing too. If she’d faked the first theft in order to throw suspicion off herself regarding the second, she could now hold two doses. 

Harry drove himself almost nutters trying to think of any other possible suspect. He knew neither Zabini nor Michelle was  _ likely _ to be a Dark traitor, but he couldn’t think of anyone else. It had to be one of them. 

_ Maybe the agent isn’t Dark. Could either of them be acting under duress? They don’t  _ seem _ like they’re being squeezed. A bribe? Something so base? _

As much as he fretted about it, he made no progress by the time the end of June, and exams, approached.

Exams at Hogwarts were always interesting. Professor McGonagall made them transfigure a sow's ear into a silk purse. Professor Slughorn poisoned them and made them brew the antidote. He had emergency remedies standing by, and he used nothing that would kill rapidly, but it  _ was _ a deadly poison. Professor Snape put each of them under a Silencing Charm and a random curse, such as the Jelly-Legs Jinx or the Dancing Feet Jinx, and they had to do the counter non-verbally. It was all very tricky. 

One evening after supper, Harry was called to Dumbledore’s office. It had been a long time since they had discussed Tom’s Horcruxes. He wondered if the old man had figured out something new.

“Ah, come in, Harry. Please sit. Lemon drop?”

Harry wasn’t in much of a social mood. “No, thank you, sir. Am I in trouble?”

The headmaster chuckled indulgently. “Not tonight, Harry. Not tonight.”

_ I didn’t come here to be laughed at. _ “Have you found out something about the Horcruxes?”

Dumbledore’s levity evaporated. “I believe I may have found the location of another one of Riddle’s enchanted objects at last.”

Harry felt a flush of euphoria. “That’s stellar news, sir. Where?”

“You remember the memory from Missus Cole? I believe I have at last located the correct spot along the vast coast of England. Tom’s orphanage took the occasional day trip to the sea, and through the memories, we have seen that he delighted in lording power over the other children. As we have discussed, he hid his Horcruxes in places where he felt strong. I believe this cave to be such a place.”

Harry’s excitement spiked. “May I come with you, sir?” 

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, but you may see me off, if you wish.”

“Why not?” Harry tried not to whine like a child.

“I believe it will be extremely perilous,” the old man said ominously. “I am comfortable risking my own life. I am less so with yours. Were you to be injured, or Merlin forbid killed, and I were to somehow survive, I would face the wrath of Sirius Black. If he were to leave anything left of me, I am quite certain that Narcissa Malfoy would destroy my last atoms.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the reminder of the love his family had for him. “Yeah, they’d be pretty upset.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

Harry followed Dumbledore down the many sets of stairs and into the Entrance Hall.

“Good evening, Harry.”

“Good luck, sir.” He hesitated. “And- and be careful.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Thank you, my dear boy.”

The door shut with a thud.

Suddenly Harry was struck by a bolt of realization. The cave!

He had told Dumbledore that the locket came from #12, but that was all. He hadn’t told the headmaster the truth about Regulus. They just didn’t have that sort of relationship. The old man knew nothing of the cave, the insidious potion, or the Inferi that guarded it. Harry should have pushed harder to go. With his foreknowledge of the protections, he would be able to react instantly when things went pear-shaped.

Dread filled Harry’s stomach. The headmaster was walking into deadly danger.

“Where’s he off to?”

Harry spun around. Zabini was standing there munching on a chicken leg.

_ Was he following us? Did he heard us talking? How much does he know? _

“What are you doing out after curfew?” he snapped.

“I was hungry. Where’s Dumbledore gone?”

“Never you mind. Get back to the dorm before I give you detention.”

“You have a really bad attitude, Potter. Has anyone ever told you before?”

Harry ignored him and practically ran for the common room. He went directly to Crabbe and Goyle. “You two, with me, right now.”

“What’s up?” Draco said.

“I think Zabini might be a spy.” Harry tried to remain calm. “He’s been trying to learn about the Order of the Basilisk all year. Just now, I caught him following me, but he saw Dumbledore leave the castle. I think he might try and tell Voldemort somehow.”

“How?”

“Sirius and I have enchanted mirrors,” Harry pointed out. “It’s not like it’s impossible. The how doesn’t matter right now. We’ve got to stop him.”

Draco leaned forward. “What do we do?”

Harry had a rough plan worked out. “As soon as he gets back, we knock him out and take him down to the Chamber of Secrets to question him.”

“Fitting,” Draco said approvingly.

They waited not even five minutes. Zabini was whistling as he came in, but he stopped as he saw all the wands pointed at him.

“Hey, guys,” he said casually. “What’s all the excitement about?”

Harry’s answer was a Stunner. Zabini crumpled to the floor as the red light struck him in the chest.

“Bring him,” Harry said to Goyle.

It took some patience and many references to the Marauder’s Map, but they got up to the second floor girls’ bathroom without encountering Filch. They locked the door. Harry opened the passageway, and they took the stairs down.

In the circle of light where Ginny Weasley had lain, Harry conjured a sturdy chair. They fastened Zabini to it with chains and bound him tightly.

“ _ Renervate! _ ”

Zabini came awake at once. “What’s going on? Potter, where have you brought me?”

Harry leaned in menacingly. “I’m asking the questions here, Zabini. Do you understand that?”

“Go get stuffed!” Zabini was not intimidated.

It was time to get some answers. “You’ve been trying to learn my secrets all year. Why?”

“I just wanted to be friends,” Zabini explained. “You guys treat me like a stranger, and I hate it. You always stop talking when I come in the room. You never want to study with me. You hex the snot out of me in Duelling Club. I’ve been nothing but nice to you lot since I got back, but you can’t seem to forgive me for leaving.”

Harry ignored his plea for sympathy. “Who are you working for, Zabini? Who wants to know my secrets?”

“I’m not working for anyone,” Zabini denied.

Harry cast a curse to give him boils all over his body. Zabini yelled.

“Stuff yourself!”

“Who do you work for?” Harry demanded.

“When I get free, you’re going to regret this, Potter,” Zabini howled.

* * *

Tonks and Snape waited in Trelawney’s tower for the raid to begin.

“I hate waiting,” Tonks said, lounging on the sofa. “That’s always the worst part of any operation.”

“Shouldn’t you change form?” Snape said. “We’ll want to be ready.”

“If it will make you feel better, Professor,” Tonks said, flashing him a cheeky grin. She closed her eyes and melted into the image of Sibyll Trelawney. Her height didn’t change, but she became thinner.

Tonks stepped behind a screen and changed into a grey shapeless robe. She wrapped herself in a gauzy spangled shawl. She put on not less than a dozen chains, beads, and pendants. She donned many bangles and rings, almost entirely hiding her hands and arms.

“How do I look, Professor?” Tonks’ voice was completely different too.

He glanced her over briefly. “Adequate.”

“That’s all I get? Adequate?” It was actually rather high praise.

He sneered at her. “You will pass.”

Tonks sighed. “I suppose that’s the best one can expect with you.”

“Five points from-”

“Hah!” she crowed. “Can’t do that anymore, can you? You’ve actually got to deal with me as a fellow human being.”

He returned to the task at hand. “Now that you look the part, perhaps I should stun you so as to be ready when the signal comes.”

She smirked at him. “If you want to take on an Auror, be my guest.”

“How a bumbling fool like you ever survived Auror training, the world deserves to know,” he declared. “I still can’t believe you lettered well enough in Potions to get in. Or well enough to get into NEWT-level in the first place, for that matter.”

“For some reason I was a lot less clumsy without someone looming over me waiting for me to screw up,” she said sweetly.

“Did you find my presence disturbing, Miss Tonks?” Snape seemed pleased for some reason. “That is by design. One will not always have ideal conditions in which to perform spells or brew potions. The true measure of a wizard is how well he can perform when under stress and pressure. I would think that an Auror would understand grace under fire.”

“I can, but when you’re dealing with eleven year olds, it’s very harsh.”

“Life is harsh, Miss Tonks,” he said without sympathy.

“That’s Missus Lupin, by the way,” she corrected.

“Further evidence of your questionable judgment,” he sneered.

“You could take it easy on them,” she said, not letting go of her argument. “They’re just starting to learn.”

He brushed her sentimentality aside. “They should learn correctly from the start that life is not ideal. They should learn to perform in real world circumstances, then when they have a chance to pursue the ideal, their work will be that much stronger.”

She nearly rolled her eyes. “You’re about to start in about the beauty of the shimmering cauldron, aren’t you?”

Snape frowned. “I would not expect you to understand.”

“Isn’t learning the basics of Potions difficult enough?” she inquired.

He sought to explain. “My father taught me to play chess. He called it a gentleman’s game. Do you play?”

She nodded. “All Aurors do.”

Snape arched his fingers. “He was ruthless. He never forgave a mistake. He would swoop in and take my queen on the third move if I left her unprotected. He mocked my protests. He said the only way to get better was to play against people who were better than you. He said he would do me no favours by going soft on me. Said that life wasn’t fair and I should disabuse myself of any notion that it was. The only fairness in life is what you wring from it.”

“Sounds very Slytherin,” she observed.

“Yes,” Snape said. “So it is with the students. I challenge them from the start. Those who have the will to succeed will rise to the test. Those who do not take it seriously will wash out.”

“Survival of the fittest?” she paraphrased.

“Indeed.”

“What about those who have the potential to be great but don’t have that intuitive grasp of things?”

He dismissed this possibility. “Without the grasp, one cannot be great. There is only so far that rote memorization of things read in a book can take you. One needs a feel for the potion.”

“People who can follow the instructions can produce effective potions. Why discourage them from going as far as their skill will allow them?”

“I don’t,” Snape crowed. “Their skill won’t let them get past my classroom.”

Tonks sighed. “You’re causing a shortage of potioneers. You do know that, right?”

Snape did not care. “I will not suffer fools in my class. I will readily teach anyone who genuinely wishes to learn and apply one’s self. I have seen many pass through these halls who had the touch. If one does not wish to devote the effort, I cannot help that.”

“You could make the subject a little more appealing,” she suggested. “You’re always so grim. Try smiling every now and again. If you were a more pleasant person in general and teacher in specific, students might enjoy being in your class and might enjoy potions more and might go on to pursue careers.”

“I am not required to smile. At the least, I do not remember that requirement anywhere in my employment contract.”

* * *

Zabini had talked in the end, but it had been meaningless. Harry was quite certain that he wasn’t the spy. He was an extremely annoying person, but he wasn’t a supporter of Voldemort. That left only one other suspect.

“Now, how to handle Michelle,” Harry mused. He didn’t really want to abduct her and rough her up the way they’d done to Zabini.

“I can take care of it,” Pansy offered.

“No,” Tracy said. “I’ll do it.”

“Do you want some help?”

Tracy considered for a moment. “Your badge could be helpful to get her to come with me. Yes. After that, I shouldn’t need more than an hour or two. She’ll tell us everything. I promise.”

Harry didn’t want to know the details. He only knew that it was better for a girl to do such things than a boy.

“You don’t have to hurt her,” he said. “Just scare her.”

Tracy smiled tightly. “Pain  _ is _ scary. If I hurt her a little bit, it will scare her, and she’ll tell me what I want to know.”

“If you hurt someone enough, they'll tell you anything you want to hear just to make the pain stop.” He’d learned that with Zabini.

“At first, yes.”

“At first?” he said sharply.

“I keep asking the question.”

“I don’t like this.” He was fine with the blokes delivering a beating to Zabini, but the notion of hurting Michelle made his stomach turn a bit. She was one of them, a Slytherin. She was a part of his house and his family. Family shouldn’t hurt each other.

“I don’t like it either,” Tracy said, “but it must be done.”

“There’s got to be another way.” The way Zabini had squirmed had been grotesque. He didn’t want to think about Michelle doing it too.

“There is no other way. I’ll try to make it quick.”

“Veritaserum!” he said desperately. “We’ve got to have some Veritaserum still around here somewhere.”

“No, we’re out,” Tracy said softly. “Most everyone got frustrated and stopped practicing. Theo and I are really the only ones. We ran out yesterday. I was going to ask you to ask Professor Snape for more, but I haven’t had a chance.”

“Damn it!” Harry threw his cloak around his shoulders and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“We can’t wait, Harry,” she said urgently. “If Dumbledore really has left the school, then this is the night they will attack. We can’t let a spy get that information back to Voldemort. If you want to spare Michelle from what I’m going to do to her, you’re either going to have to stay here and guard her or be very quick in finding Professor Snape.”

“Don’t worry about  _ that _ ,” he almost snarled. “Don’t do it, Tracy. Please.”

She seemed almost sad. “I’m sorry, Harry, but I have to. We’re talking about my life here. If Death Eaters attack the school, I’m going to fight, and I’m probably going to die.”

“Tracy-”

“I will do everything I can to prevent that attack and preserve my own life, to save the lives of all the students in this castle, and if that means I have to get a little rough with Michelle, then I will do it without a second thought.” Her eyes were locked with his. “When you ask me not to, you ask me to endanger my life. I would die for you, Harry, but only as a last resort. I want to live. Her pain is better than my death.”

Harry had no words and had no time to try to come up with some. He turned in appeal to Pansy, but saw no sympathy in her eyes. She clearly didn’t like it, but she was going along with it.

“Fine,” he said, shoving the issue aside for now, knowing there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. “I’ll be back really damn quick.”

“I hope so.” And he believed her.

Harry pulled out the Marauder’s Map as he walked briskly up the stone corridor. Professor Snape wasn’t in his office, nor was he in the staff dormitory. Harry frowned and began scanning the map, cursing the lost time.

“What the hell?” he said, double-checking. “What the hell are Snape and Tonks doing in the Divination tower?”

Just then a swarm of new indicator flags appeared in one of the secret tunnels. Harry drew in a sharp breath as he read some of the names. Death Eaters!

He stopped on the spot and double-timed it back to the common room. He was going to need help for this one. He put the map away and pulled out his mirror.

“Sirius Black!”

“Harry Potter!”

“Death Eaters are attacking the school! Bellatrix is leading a group in through the old secret tunnel that’s supposed to have been collapsed.”

“Someone must have fixed it. I’m on my way. Where are you now?”

“I’m headed back to the common room to alert the others, then I was going to go stop them.”

“I can’t believe how eager you are to tangle with her again.”

“That’s not the word I’d use,” Harry said dryly. “Sirius, do you know anything about a plan involving Snape and Tonks?”

“How do you know about that?” Sirius demanded.

“The map never lies,” he said succinctly.

“So it doesn’t. It’s part of a plot to get an agent into the prison. Snape told Voldemort who gave the prophecy, and Voldemort ordered him to kidnap her.”

Harry caught on at once. “And Tonks is going to morph into Trelawney’s form. Cute. Was this Dumbledore’s plan?”

“It was a group effort,” Sirius replied.

Harry could see a number of ways for it to go horribly wrong. “This is the best plan you came up with?”

“This is the only plan we came up with,” Sirius said sourly. “The Fidelius is very strong magic.”

“Get here soon,” Harry pleaded.

“I’ve already left,” Sirius assured him. “I sent a Patronus message to Remus. As soon as I contact Auror headquarters, I’ll be in Hogsmeade. I know where that secret tunnel comes out, so I’ll just follow the Death Eaters on in.”

“Be careful,” Harry urged.

“You too. I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, too, Sirius.”

* * *

The island was no larger than Albus’ office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much brighter when viewed close up. Albus squinted at it; at first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin rather like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal. 

Albus approached the basin. It was full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow. He pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his blackened hand, and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers toward the surface of the potion. He met an invisible barrier that prevented him coming within an inch of it. No matter how hard he pushed, his fingers encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and flexible air. 

He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion, murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened, except perhaps that the potion glowed a little brighter. 

“But how to reach it?” he asked the mist. He often pondered aloud. Forming his thoughts into words and then hearing them through his ears had often helped him sort his mind. “This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature.” 

Almost absentmindedly, Albus raised his wand again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere. 

“I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk. Only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths.” 

Albus lowered the crystal goblet into the potion. For a split second, Albus hoped that he would not be able to touch the potion with the goblet, but the crystal sank into the surface as nothing else had; when the glass was full to the brim, Albus lifted it to his mouth.

The taste was like the air of a charnel house. It tasted of smoke, death, pain, and agony. Cold flooded his body, as though he’d been dunked back in the sea outside. His extremities felt like pins and needles. A wave of despair washed over him, draining his hope and spirit.

That was only one goblet. The basin held much more. He shuddered. How could he bring himself to drink all of this poison?

_ I can. I must. There is no one else. Only me. I can do this. I must. For the greater good. _

The second goblet was even worse. It tasted of blood, fire, ash, and ruin. He felt the curse in his arm flare anew, only over his entire body. Whiteness washed out his vision. A roaring cacophony filled his ears.

He drank the third, tears pouring from his eyes. Though he knew he was alone, he was hearing voices. His past, which he always kept a very tight lid on, was trying to make him remember. Grief assailed him, pounding at him with hammers of guilt and anguish.

He could not drink a fourth. The goblet fell from numb fingers into the basin. He stared at it with horror, gripping the rim with all his strength.

_ Why am I doing this to myself? Nothing is worth this. I should just leave. I need to get back to Hogwarts. I have things to do. More important things than slowly killing myself. _

How long he stood there, he could not say. At last his head cleared just a bit. Truly this potion was twisted and insidious. Albus had never seen its equal. Tom must have invented it. A completely misplaced sense of pride in his old student made him smile. This was the level of skill and ingenuity he had been disappointed not to see with the crude entrance mechanism.

The fourth goblet sent his eyes rolling back in his head. His face was twitching as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. He collapsed to the stone ground, his legs unable to support him. He lay there, twitching every so often, lost in hallucinations.

At long last the fog in his brain parted just enough for him to stand and fill the goblet again. The world melted around him. Everywhere he looked, no matter whether what he saw was real or imagined, things melted and refused to hold their shape. The goblet turned into a dove and flew into the air, around his head three times, and then it dove into his ear.

  
  



	29. United We Stand

**** “Holt, I want a word with you,” Pansy said as she and Tracy entered the fifth year girls’ dormitory without knocking.

The blonde girl looked up, fear writ large across her face. “I didn’t do anything.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I can guess. It’s been one threat after another this year. For the last time, I’m sorry I made Harry ask me to the Yule Ball.”

“That is actually the least of your worries right now. Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You come or I’ll make you,” Tracy snarled.

“No!”

Pansy pointed to her badge. “I’m a prefect, and I have the authority to compel you.”

“Don’t you dare!” Michelle looked frantically at Sarrah, Shawna, and Ginny. “You can’t let them!”

“She’s a prefect, Michelle,” Sarrah said, touching her own badge. “You must be in trouble.”

“I haven’t done anything!”

Pansy didn’t answer. She gestured to Tracy, who grabbed Michelle by the hair and hauled her bodily out of the room.

“What the hell?” Michelle shrieked, trying to reach her wand. Pansy neatly divested her of it.

Tracy didn’t take her far, only to their own dorm. She threw Michelle at one of the beds. She banged her knees and went down in a heap.

“Ow! What are you doing?”

Tracy glanced at Pansy. “Thanks. I’ve got it sorted from here.”

Pansy hesitated. “Are you sure you should be left alone with her?”

Tracy eyed her coolly. “Do you care about her enough to get in my way?”

Pansy gave her a long look. “No, I really don’t. Just try not to kill her.”

“Oh, she’s not going to die,” Tracy promised. “That would defeat the purpose of questioning her.”

Pansy left the room. Tracy put up a Silencing Charm and turned back to the task at hand.

“You’ve been caught at last, Holt,” Tracy said triumphantly. “We know you’ve gone Dark.”

“If anyone’s gone Dark around here, it’s you lot,” Michelle snapped, looking up at her through her hair, which had fallen into her face. “All you ever do is threaten to hurt me!”

Tracy raised her wand. “We’re protecting ourselves. We have far more important things going on than your petty teenaged witch games. You’ve played the innocent all year, trying to penetrate our secrets. Now you’re going to tell me everything you know.”

Michelle screamed. “Don’t you touch me! You can’t do this to me!”

“I can do anything I want to, Holt,” Tracy gloated. “Anything. To whom have you been giving information?”

“Nobody! I’m not a spy!” Michelle sounded like she was ready to cry.

Tracy bound her to the wooden posts at the end of the bed. “Last chance, Holt. Who do you work for?”

“Help! Someone help me!”

“Scream all you want, Holt. Nobody is going to save you.”

Scream, she did.

* * *

As Harry re-entered the common room, his friends looked up at him in surprise.

“Harry!” Pansy said. “Did you get it?”

“No. We’ve got other problems now,” he replied heavily. “Where’s Tracy? We have to find her and make her stop. It doesn’t matter anymore. Death Eaters are attacking the castle right now.”

That made everyone sit up. “What?!”

He nodded. “We’ve got to get everyone on alert and form up a group to go stop them.”

Pansy stood up. “I’ll get her. You go.”

Harry cast a Sonorus Charm on himself. “Slytherin House, this is Harry Potter speaking. Death Eaters are attacking the school. All third years and younger, stay in your dorms. I’ll be by in a few moments to lock you in. Stay put. You’ll be safe here. All members of the Duelling Club assemble in the common room.”

Harry cancelled the charm and turned to Draco. “You know what to do.”

Draco nodded. “Form squads of three, spaced every ten seconds, move from cover to cover when possible.”

Harry was very relieved to have friends he could count on. “I’ll be along shortly. If you see Snape, don’t bother him.”

“Right.”

Harry went back to the dorm and cast his Patronus. “Neville, Bellatrix is leading the Death Eaters into the castle. Get the Gryffindors from Duelling Club and get down here.”

Harry sent alert messages to Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and also Professor McGonagall before he poked in on the third year boys, moving down to the second years and then the first years. He then went into the girls’ corridor to lock in the firsties, the second years, and the third years.

“Are we safe?” said one girl fearfully.

Harry did his best to reassure them. “You’ll be as safe as I can make you. I’m going to use Arithmancy with my spells. Only a student will be able to open the door. I want you guys to stay alert. Keep your wands handy. Be ready to defend yourselves if you need to.”

“We will, Harry,” they promised.

* * *

Neville gasped as a silvery stag came through the door. It was a Patronus, a corporeal Patronus. Not many wizards could do the spell that effectively. Then it spoke!

“Neville,” it said in Harry Potter’s voice, “Bellatrix is leading the Death Eaters into the castle. Get the Gryffindors from Duelling Club and get down here.”

The Patronus faded into nothingness, but Neville was already starting to move. He cast a Sonorus Charm.

“Attention! Attention! The castle is under attack. All members of the Duelling Club report to the common room at once. We must repel the invaders. This is not a drill. Get ready, boys and girls! This is it!”

Neville immediately began to dress for combat. His wand holster went on his belt. He looked for a long moment at his dad’s wand, in the display box on the table next to his bed. He’d had some limited success since he’d started using it left-handed.

“Dad, if your wand is ever going to work for me, now would be a really good time to start.”

He took the wand and slid it into the holster.

In the common room, nearly the entire house was mulling around. It was a chaotic mob, and he was very angry that they weren’t in formation.

“Shut it!” he bellowed.

They silenced immediately.

“Third years and under, back to dorms. Now! Detention and a hexing for anyone still visible in twenty seconds. Move it, move it!”

There was a mad scramble as the younger students complied. Neville didn’t wait for them to be gone before he was on his next order.

“Form up by squads! I should not have to tell you that! I hope we’ll be able to meet up with Captain Potter and learn more, but for now, all we know is that Death Eaters are in the castle. We advance until we encounter the enemy. When that happens, we will kill every single one of them without hesitation or pause.”

His orders given, he began to motivate. “This is not going to be duelling. This is going to be killing. If you hesitate, you will not kill. You will be killed. I will provide an alibi for anyone who is later questioned about illegal magic. It is you or them, boys and girls. This is the moment where childhood ends. After tonight those of us that survive will be men and women. Adults. Those of us who survive will honour the names of those who fall. Be smart, be careful, and for Merlin’s sake, be fast. Fall out.”

They hustled out of Gryffindor tower and began the descent. They had to move quietly, and he put a Silencing Charm on all of their feet, a trick he’d learned from the other prefects..

As they were coming down to the fourth floor, Neville called a halt. He could hear voices coming up the stairs. He motioned to his squad to take cover. They would ambush the intruders and catch them exposed on the corner.

He knelt behind a stone pillar, his head bowed and eyes closed. He kept his ears trained on the voices and footsteps, and he silently cast the Hearing Amplification Charm.

He took a deep breath and tried not to panic. The waiting was unbearable. The anticipation so awful.

Neville hadn’t paid much thought to matters of God in his short life except to wonder if he was cursed to endure all his family’s attempts to make him show his magic. Now as he waited for the most important moment of his life to arrive, he found himself praying. He prayed that he would survive in this battle long enough to find Bellatrix Lestrange and kill her. He prayed that Gran would forgive him for dying and leaving her alone. He prayed that she might know how brave he’d been, how much like his father he’d tried to be. He prayed to be brave and to be like his father. Dad’s wand was tucked into the holster on his belt. He prayed that it would bring him good luck.

The voices were getting closer now. Was that a woman’s voice he heard?

He prayed to aim well and cast straight.

He opened his eyes and peeked around the pillar. He could see the Death Eaters coming up from the third floor. They were nearly all in the kill zone.

“ _ Diffindo! _ ” he bellowed, rising and casting the first spell.

* * *

In the common room, Harry saw that Draco and most of his friends had gone up already. He turned to Astoria, who was trying to decide which of her three friends to kick out their triad.

“Tori, I want you stay behind. Not everyone is going to fight. I’m placing you in charge of everyone who stays in the dormitories.”

Astoria looked astonished for a moment, but she rebounded quickly. “I won’t let you down, Harry.”

Harry headed up by himself at a run. He found Draco, Theo, and Millie at the stairs where the dungeons led up into the castle proper.

Draco nodded to him. “Good timing. Where are they now?”

Harry consulted the Map. “Looks like they’re on the first floor, just exiting the secret passage. They’re headed up. Let’s go.”

It wasn’t until they were on the third floor that Harry realized their purpose.

“They’re on their way to kill Dumbledore.”

“But he’s not here,” Draco objected.

Theo argued, “They might not know that. They’re just going to ambush him when he returns.”

Harry didn’t care. “We’re going to ambush them now.”

“How?”

Suddenly the sound of spellfire rang out.

“What’s that?” Draco said, his voice an octave higher than normal.

“Way to go, Neville,” Harry said proudly.

“How do you know it’s him?” Theo said.

“I sent him a message. Now we can get behind them and catch them in the crossfire. Draco, take the cloak and get close to them. Take out Bellatrix if you can. When I change back, that’s the signal.”

Harry flashed effortlessly into his Animagus form, hearing Millie gasp as he scampered up the stairs. 

He approached the Death Eaters with caution. All were masked. He got right behind the first fellow. Quick as can be, he changed back to a boy and cast a non-verbal Strangulation Curse.

Draco cried, “ _ Diffindo! _ ” and a Death Eater’s throat spurted blood. He remained under the cloak, so Harry remained unnoticed as they looked to see one of their number fall for no apparent reason.

Rodolphus dropped his wand and grabbed at his throat with both hands. He went to his knees, and now the others noticed him, but it was too late. With a twitch, he collapsed entirely and lay still.

Harry began to cast shields as Theo, Millie, Lucas, Arcen, and Jeremiah Goodwinter charged in, spells blazing.

The Death Eaters were now caught in a very unenviable position at the corner of the stairs. They could not go up, and they could not go down.

Harry summoned a cascade of ice and was countered with fire. He countered the fire with a Vacuum Spell, pulling it into a singularity and hurling the pending explosion back up the stairs.

All of a sudden Harry heard Neville swearing, and the Gryffindors’ spells faltered. The Death Eaters moved immediately on to the fourth floor.

“Don’t let them get away!”

On the fourth floor, the Death Eaters moved down the corridor, heading for the secret passage leading to just outside Dumbledore’s office. Several wounded Gryffindors lay on the floor, as well as a dazed Jamie Davis.

“They’re getting away,” she said weakly. “I walked out of the secret passage right into the middle of everything. How could I be so stupid?”

“Don’t worry about that now. Rest easy.”

“I’m fine. I need to get these boys to Madam Pomfrey.”

“I’ll send someone with you.”

“Stop them, Harry!”

Neville staggered to his feet. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a hippogriff.”

“Potter, what’s going on?” Weasley demanded.

“Bellatrix and the Death Eaters. I think they’ve come to kill Dumbledore.”

“Let’s stop them!”

“That’s the plan. They’re taking the secret passage up to near Dumbledore’s office.”

“How many?” Neville said.

Theo answered. “We took out two of them. Should be a dozen or so left.”

Draco turned to Harry. “What’s the plan?”

“Pin them down and kill them. Split up. Neville, take your people up via the stairs. We’ll follow them up the secret passage.”

“Got it.”

“We’ve been training for this. We can do this. Let’s go!”

* * *

Tracy swore in a most unladylike fashion. The sobbing girl laying on the floor had broken far too easily. There was no way that Michelle could be the spy. Nobody could take the sort of punishment Tracy had handed out and not tell everything she knew.

The only things that Michelle had confessed to were following Harry around this year, trying to get him to notice her. Now that Laine was out of the way, she had clung to a delusional belief that maybe she might have a chance with him. She had been hacked off at Tracy for dating Harry again. She had tried to get Tracy in trouble and make her look bad to Harry.

_ Arrogant little slag. After all your conniving and scheming, you still haven’t learned your lessons. Making another move on my Harry! Well, at least you’ve been suitably punished now. But if it wasn’t Zabini, and it wasn’t you, then we still don’t know who the spy is. I need to tell Harry as soon as possible. _

Pansy opened the door. “Tracy, stop!”

“I have. She’s not the spy.”

“Death Eaters are attacking the school!”

Tracy swore again.

“Exactly. Harry is leading the Duelling Club up to stop them.”

“I’ve got to go to him.”

“What about her?” Pansy looked at Michelle.

“What about her?” 

“Are you just going to leave her like this?”

Tracy frowned, but she cast a few quick Healing Charms. Michelle’s wounds began to close. 

“Better?”

“What are you going to do with her now?”

“Now, nothing. Later, who knows? Maybe we can Memory Charm her or something. It’s not important. Harry needs me now.”

Tracy cast a Body Bind and the girl froze in place on the floor. She walked quickly toward the common room, Pansy only a step behind.

“Where is Harry?” Tracy demanded.

“He locked in the younger students and went up by himself. Everyone’s going up in threes.”

“Harry will be our third. We just need to find him.”

“Let’s take the secret passage.”

“Right.”

They were quickly up to the ground level. In the vast central stairway, they could clearly hear the sounds of spellfire.

Tracy was taking the stairs two at a time, but she still wasn’t in time to make it to the next landing as the staircase began to shift, pulling her away from where she needed to go.

“Stupid stairs!” she said heatedly. “Don’t they know we’re in a hurry?”

Pansy was too winded to reply.

* * *

Vincent Crabbe enjoyed combat. There was just something about the meeting of curse and counter that made his blood sing. When he fought, he felt himself being more graceful, faster, and stronger. When the thrill had faded, he felt clumsy and awkward, like an ox trying to skate on ice. He had joined the Duelling Club and the Order of the Basilisk in the hope that he might be able to contribute someday in a meaningful way.

And so he had.

The Death Eaters had attacked the school, and Vincent had answered the call to defend the students. He had struck down several of the enemy himself, and he’d helped his better friends with still more. They had fanned out through the corridors, trying to limit the damage done.

He turned the corner and had to duck back to avoid a beam of red light. Several more spells chased after it, and he waited for a chance to return fire. He tried to catch his breath, but as he wheezed, his heart sank.

_I know that voice._

“Daddy!” he screamed. “Stop this! I can save you!”

The spellfire ceased. Vincent dared to peek around the corner and saw his father standing there.

“No one can stop the Dark Lord. Come with me, Vincent. We will have a place of honor.”

“A place of torture, you mean. I know what he does to you all.”

His father’s eyes flashed with fear for a moment. “Only when we fail. The incompetent require incentive.”

“He’s twisted you! No normal wizard does that to people! We don’t have to accept it.”

“There is nothing else to be done, Vincent. I made my choice long ago. I cannot unmake it now.”

“Daddy, please!”

“I’m sorry, Vincent.”

They began to duel, and despite the sour taste in his mouth, Vincent felt his excitement start to build.

_That isn’t your father,_ he told himself sternly. _That is a Death Eater, and he’s going to kill you unless you stop him._

Vincent punched through the Death Eater’s shield and landed two curses in his chest. He staggered back, off-balance. Another curse followed, this one blue and lethal. The big man fell at last, his wand skittering down the corridor.

Then Vincent came back to himself, and he couldn’t breathe. His chest felt wrapped in bands of steel. He stepped closer, not letting his guard down. He didn’t think his dad had a spare wand, but one could never be sure.

Dad’s breathing was shallow, and his eyes were wide.

Vincent crashed to the floor. “Daddy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he gasped. “I am free. Thank you, my son.”

“We’ve got to get you some help.”

“No! It’s better this way. Just stay with me. Until the end.”

“Daddy!” His voice cracked.

“Don’t cry, Vincent. I’m proud of you. You are a fine man. Better than me. Stronger. Braver.”

“Don’t say that!”

“I love you, son.”

“I love you too, Daddy!”

His heart was shattering, then the grip on his hand slackened.

“No! Daddy!”

Father’s eyes unfocused, not blinking, but staring into nothing.

How long he sat there sobbing, Vincent could not have said. It was only when Goyle knelt down beside him that he came back to himself. His best mate put one hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly.

“We have to keep fighting. There are more.”

“I know,” he said brokenly. “I know, but-”

Goyle nodded. “Take a moment. Get yourself together. We’ll mourn later. Let’s make them pay.”

Anger was a superb remedy for grief. Fire flared in Vincent’s mind as he thought of revenge. He raised his wand.

“Let’s kill them.”

* * *

When the call to assemble had gone out, Ron had leapt into action. He’d pulled his clothes back on and grabbed his wand. He got into formation with the others. He was in a squad with Dean and Seamus, his best mates.

Leftenant Neville yelled at them and gave them a motivational speech. Ron wasn’t worried. He was at the top of his game. There was no way the Death Eaters would be able to take him down. He wasn’t scared of them.

The Gryffindors hustled out of their tower and hurried down the stairs. They found the Death Eaters on the stairs, and Neville began the battle with a Slicing Curse. Ron felt his blood singing in his veins as he cast and blocked.

Suddenly some of them were hit with spells from an odd angle. Ron turned to look but was hit and went down. The breath had been stolen from his chest. All he could comprehend was that he wasn’t breathing. He wanted to suck in a lungful of fresh air, but his body refused to cooperate. Panic washed over him. He couldn’t breathe!

Mercifully he blacked out. When he came to a few moments later, the Slytherins had arrived and Potter was giving orders. Then Neville was giving orders.

“You lot,” he indicated half the group, “come with me. You lot,” he gestured to the half that included Ron, “fan out through the corridors. We don’t know if they’ve split up. Be ready for anything.”

‘Anything’ turned out to be a pair of Death Eaters outside the Charms classroom.

After a furious exchange of spells, the Death Eaters were incapacitated. Ron made sure to take their wands away.

The next ‘anything’ was Pansy Parkinson and Tracy Davis.

“And here I thought my night was going so well,” he said with a great sigh.

“Stuff it, Weasley,” Parkinson snapped. “No time.”

“You girls better come with us.”

“We’re looking for Harry.”

“He’s gone up the secret passage to Dumbledore’s office. You’ll never make it.”

“We’ll manage.”

Two more Death Eaters strolled around the corner. Ron saw the movement out of the corner of his eye as they raised wands. He grabbed Parkinson by the shoulders and pulled her out of the path of the Killing Curse.

He got to his feet, firing back with the Bludgeoner, which had developed into one of his strongest spells. It wasn’t as destructive as a Blasting Curse, but Ron could cast this one particularly well, which made it more effective. 

They traded more spells, but Dean and Seamus got the win.

Parkinson was a bit dazed. “You saved me. Thank you.”

Ron wasn’t used to much of anything other than hostility from Slytherins in general and Parkinson in particular. To hear one express gratitude was often a singular experience.

“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly. He offered her a hand up and winced.

“Are you hurt?” Parkinson asked with concern.

“Yeah, I think I caught one.”

“We’ve got to get you to Madam Pomfrey,” she insisted.

“I’ll be fine,” he demurred. “There’s more yet to do. Come on.”

* * *

Lucas felt a thrill race through his mind every time he pointed his wand and cast a hostile curse at a Death Eater. He gloried in the chaos of combat and struck down his enemies with vicious hatred.

_Die!_

He had trained for this battle, this war, since they had struck down his beautiful twin sister, font of light and grace. Her visage had haunted his every moment, echoes of her voice intruding on his every thought. She guided him tonight, whispering in his ear to step left or to cast his shield anew.

He used the most brutal magic that he knew. Others around him were using Bone-Breakers, Bludgeoners, and so on. He had no conscience about Organ-Rupturing, Guts-Rending, or Bowel-Reversing. Death Eaters had no mercy, and he would show none to them. If he found Bellatrix, he was prepared to cast Unforgivable magic.

He traded spells with a Death Eater and finally pulled part of the wall down on him. Lucas ran forward and kicked the wand away from the grasping hand. Then he levelled his wand at the Death Eater’s head.

“For Laine. _Bombarda!_ ”

The white mask exploded in a shower of crimson blood. A stream ran from the pile of rubble down the corridor.

Lucas didn’t even pause. He rushed to the corner and peered around. He pulled back and took a deep breath.

_Three of them. I can’t take three of them. Not alone._

He was the last of his triad. Jeremiah and Arcen had fought with skill, but they had fallen. He hadn’t bothered to check on them. There had been another Death Eater to duel, and another after that. Now he regretted their absence.

_How am I going to kill all three?_

Then Laine spoke to him. With a quick Transfiguration, his hat became a mask and hood. His stomach turned, but it was worth it.

He ran around the corner, waving to the Death Eaters to get their attention.

“They’re coming! At least six, and I think one of them is Potter!”

The Death Eaters were startled for a moment, but they raised their wands to the ready, not to the attack.

_Stupid wankers._

He rushed to their line and made to join it.

He didn’t.

The first Death Eater fell with his throat slashed open. The second turned and was almost able to deflect the Strangler. If he had cast the counter non-verbally, it would have succeeded. The third hissed in anger and started flinging fireballs.

Lucas countered as best he could, but this enemy was faster than the others. He mixed in non-verbal spells as well. Back and forth they went, and several times Lucas nearly succumbed. He dug deep in his soul, remembered his sister, and fought on.

The end came unexpectedly.

The Death Eater cast a Stunning Charm out loud. Lucas attempted the counter, and fell flat on his face -- magically speaking.

The bolt of red magic was unimpeded and struck him square in the chest. It was not the Stunning Charm. Pain flared in his every extremity, and whiteness flooded his vision. His wand fell from his hand, for he could no longer control his muscles well enough to hold it.

Then the pain receded a bit, just enough for him to appreciate it when he felt himself growing warmer. He clawed at his robes, trying to strip them off. Then blood began running from his ears, his eyes, and his nose. He tasted the coppery tang in his mouth.

_I’m sorry, Laine. I tried. I did what you told me, but I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t fast enough. At least we’ll be together soon._

He was laying on his back. He struggled to move, to make his body respond to his will. His entire body felt like he’d been zapped with a bolt of lightning.

With his fading vision, he could see the Death Eater come near. He drew in a shuddering breath.

“Laine,” he gasped, her name a salve for his spirit and a bitter condemnation of the wizard who had conquered him.

The Death Eater cocked his head. “What? Doesn’t matter. Where’s Potter?”

“Go to Hell.”

“You first.”

The end was not painless, nor was it quick. The only thing that prevented it from lasting a week was the arrival of more students. When they attempted to treat his wounds, he was beyond saving. He could no longer see the world around him, but he saw the one thing that mattered to him.

Laine knelt by his side and held his broken hands. “It’s over, dear brother,” she said. “You’ve brought them down.”

“I didn’t get Bellatrix,” he whispered through shattered teeth. “I didn’t avenge you.”

“Even if you did, it wouldn’t bring me back. Others will stop her. You did good. You did enough.”

“Did I really? I finally had the chance to hurt them. I just wanted the pain to stop so much. I channelled it all into my magic. I fought them with all of my hate and anger.”

“I know, and you were so mighty. I’m so proud of you. There were just too many of them.”

“You could have gotten them. You would have beaten them. You were always better, Laine. I’m sorry I couldn’t be as strong as you.”

She kissed his forehead. “You did just fine, Lucas. You got two of them. A year ago, I wouldn’t have put odds on you against even one. You fought that third one and almost had him. He just got tricky. Bad luck for you. It doesn’t make you any less skilled.”

“I’m sorry, Laine. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush, Lucas. Nothing to apologize for. Not to me. I’ve loved you since before we were born.”

He felt a sudden chill. “Laine, I feel cold.”

“It’s time, Lucas. He is here for you. Don’t be scared. I’m with you all the way.”

He pushed away the fear and focused on how much he loved his twin sister. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Where else would I be?”

Then there was someone else he could see. It was a tall figure, wearing a robe and cloak of blackest night. Pale, skeletal hands poked out from the sleeves.

“Rest easy, child. Your journey is over. It’s time to go.”

“Go? Where?”

“To eternity.”

“Is Laine there?”

“No, she has remained. Her ties to the physical realm and her willpower were sufficient to keep her from crossing over for a time. Now you will leave this world as you entered it.”

He wanted to cry. “You stayed for me?”

Laine smiled at him. “Like I said, little brother, where else would I be?”

* * *

Harry found the Death Eaters outside the gargoyle that guarded the stairs up to the Headmaster’s office. They didn’t have the password and were trying to force their passage. The gargoyle was having none of it.

“ _ Diffindo! _ ” The Slicing Curse had no effect.

“ _ Bombarda! _ ” The Explosion Hex was likewise ineffective.

The gargoyle squatted in the doorway, ignoring the curses that struck it. It seemed as though the hostile magic was actually being absorbed, for it did not ricochet. If a Death Eater got too close, it would swat at them with heavy hands that moved at blinding speed. Several were already down.

One Death Eater tried to summon Rahkos’ Giant Hand, but the gargoyle broke all the fingers. Another tried to conjure vines that would drag the gargoyle away, but it tied the vines in knots.

Harry didn’t wait to see if the gargoyle could handle the Death Eaters or not. He started casting his nastiest curses and took a distinct pleasure in watching them fall.

Bellatrix cast a shield and glared at them. “Insolent brats! My master will punish you all for your defiance!”

“Was he busy tonight?” Neville shouted from behind her. He launched a volley of non-verbal spells at her.

Bellatrix dodged them all neatly, though her shield did flare from several near-hits.

“If it isn’t ickle Neville Longbottom,” she sassed in her baby voice. “How are Mummy and Daddy these days?”

Neville didn’t let her rattle him. He continued his non-verbal assault, and now she recast her shield.

Harry put down his enemy and turned to help Neville with a Strangulation Curse aimed at Bellatrix. She dodged and retaliated with a Killing Curse. Harry blocked it by summoning a suit of armour. It instantly turned to rust and collapsed into a pile.

“Give up, Bellatrix,” Harry yelled. “You can’t win this. Dumbledore isn’t even in the castle tonight!”

“What?!” she roared.

“Guess your little spy didn’t tell you that!”

“No, and I’m going make sure the punishment is appropriate.” Bellatrix’s eyes were blazing with rage. “First I’m going to dispose of the two of you!”

Harry wasted no more words. Together he and Neville pushed Bellatrix back. Suddenly she broke and ran, dodging around a corner and pulling the wall shut behind her.

“No!” Neville screamed.

“How did she do that?” Harry marvelled, impressed, despite his frustration.

Neville cast an Explosion Hex, and the wall was redecorated with a large hole. They could see Bellatrix beating a hasty retreat.

“After her!” Neville roared.

They almost lost her several times, but at last Hogwarts herself seemed to lend a hand. The stairway began to pull away, and her desperate jump fell short. She fell only one floor down, but landing on marble steps is always painful. She didn’t move.

Harry cast the Featherfall Charm on himself and Neville and jumped after her. Bellatrix stirred as they floated down, but she got to her feet only as they touched down and trained their wands on her.

They had her cornered. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two boys, looking for a way out. She cast an Explosion Hex, and Neville deflected it.

Harry replied with Snape’s Sectumsempra. He wasn’t comfortable enough with it yet to try non-verbally, and her eyes widened as she heard the words. She barely deflected it, and now she seemed more cautious. They had tried their very best to kill her, but still she defied them.

“Aww, you’re growing up so fast, Baby Potter. Soon you might actually be able to really use Cruciatus on me. Here’s a reminder of what it feels like!”

Though she made no motions, Harry felt a jolt of pain run through him as the curse struck his arm. Somehow a Death Eater had snuck up behind him. He tried to stay on his feet, but the pain was too great. He sank to his knees, one overriding thought in his mind: KEEP YOUR WAND!!

Neville began to scream as Bellatrix cackled with delight.

Through the white haze of pain, Harry heard a new voice say, “Mistress, more are coming.”

Bellatrix was triumphant. “Let them come! We’ll kill them all!”

“The plan was to assassinate the old man, not to have a pitched battle in the halls. You’ve got to get out of here before you’re captured. That is my mission.”

“Perhaps you are right. Very well. Lead the way.”

“The Vanishing Cabinet is on the second floor. There’s a secret passage over here.”

Harry was helpless to intervene as Bellatrix and the spy escaped.

* * *

Snape turned to Tonks. “It is time.”

She nodded. “It is. Let’s do it.”

He levitated her and moved to the door.

As they descended to the second floor where they were to meet up with Bellatrix, the signs of the battle were everywhere. Black scorch marks from deflected curses marred the rough stone. More than one portrait had been damaged. 

Bellatrix and the spy hurried towards him. He fought to conceal his surprise. Even he had not been informed as to the Dark Lord’s agent in the castle. 

“At last,” he half-snarled at Bellatrix. “Did you stop to have dinner?”

“Why are you still here?” she hissed. “You were supposed to go immediately.”

“I wanted to see how many of you Dumbledore managed to kill,” Snape sneered. “I don’t see your dear husband, or anyone else for that matter. Where are they all?”

“Dead or captured,” she growled. “Potter’s little army is better than we thought.” She turned her wand on the spy. “Someone didn’t provide good enough information.  _ Crucio! _ ”

The spy collapsed to the floor, twitching madly.

“Let that be a lesson to you.” Bellatrix rounded on Snape. “Do you know anything about Dumbledore not being in the castle tonight?”

“No, this is the first I’m hearing of it.” Snape decided to indulge in some taunting. “So your mission is a complete failure.”

Bellatrix was not in a mood to be trifled with. “You should have known,” she snarled. “You should have told us. I think you knew. I think you didn’t say anything because you wanted to make me look foolish to my Master.”

“Our master, Bellatrix,” he corrected.

She snapped at him. “Let us return to him.”

“You first.”

She gave him a glare of absolute hatred before throwing back her head proudly and stepping into the Vanishing Cabinet.

Snape entered after Bellatrix had completed her journey. He arranged Tonks gently on the bottom and pulled the door shut behind him.

Travelling by this point to point method was much less jarring than Floo, Portkey, or Apparition. It was practically smooth.

They arrived in Borgin and Burke’s, one of the best Dark Arts shops in Knockturn Alley. So far, his part of the plan had gone perfectly. He had no worries that Tonks would fail to pull off the deception. If he hadn’t been able to penetrate her defences, the Dark Lord would not be able to do so without damaging her, and he wanted his Seer intact.

Once clear of the Hogwarts grounds, Snape did not hesitate to Apparate himself and Tonks directly to Azkaban.


	30. Divided We Fall

**** Madam Pomfrey had been tending to a first year with bad dreams when the first casualties were brought in. 

The door crashed open, and her head spun around to reprimand whoever was making such a racket in her hospice. The words died on her lips. Two boys were being carried in by their friends.

_ No, _ she thought, taking a closer look.  _ A Gryffindor carrying a Slytherin? A Slytherin helping a Hufflepuff? What madness descends on the school tonight? _

“Report!” she snapped, the spike of adrenaline flooding her senses, making her more alert, more responsive. She sensed that her hospital wing was about to become an emergency trauma centre.  _ Where is Jamie? I’m going to need her. _

The Cruciatus Curse was a nasty bit of work. The Death Eaters delighted in using it, and even with treatment the body took time to recover. In her career, Madam Pomfrey had seen perhaps a dozen cases. Now she  _ had _ a dozen cases, and more kept coming through the doors.

At last Jamie arrived, but Madam Pomfrey was shocked to see that her assistant could be of no help. She was conscious, a fact she likely regretted a great deal. Several students set her down as gently as they could and hurried back out into the castle.

“Jamie, what happened?” she said with horror.

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” Jamie said weakly. Her words came in gasping spurts. “I was trying to help some injured students when she came running through. I was in her way, and she put me down without a second thought.”

Poppy hated to be the bearer of bad news. “You’re not the first tonight. I’m afraid I’m out of the potion to counter the effects.”

“That’s okay. The students need it more. I’m tough. I can handle it.”

Poppy felt a rush of pride in her student. “Very noble, dear,” she said, patting her on the hand. “You just take it easy.”

“No, I can help you,” Jamie insisted.

_ Why do all Healers seem so determined to ignore their own health?  _ “You need to stay off your feet,” Poppy said firmly. “You know that better than most.”

Jamie gestured to the overflowing hospital wing. “You can’t handle all these wounded by yourself.”

“I’ve got some of the prefects assisting,” Poppy said reassuringly. “I’ll be alright. You can barely stand. Rest, dear. I insist.”

Jamie sank back down. “Yes, Madam.”

The wounded just kept arriving. It seemed like half of the student body had been hurt during the attack. All the beds were full, and the house elves were rapidly setting up more in a newly expanded space.

After an hour of rest but not sleep, Jamie couldn’t bear her idleness any longer. Poppy saw out of the corner of her eye as she eased her way out of bed and over to the potions cabinet. Pouring herself a maximum dose of Pain Relief Potion, she downed it hastily.

“Okay,” she said. “Now, time to move.”

She moved slowly, but she was being useful. Poppy needed as much help as she could get and so allowed it. In a non-emergency situation, someone who had endured Cruciatus would be on mandatory bed rest.

* * *

Harry fought as hard as he could, but he couldn’t break the spell that held him. Time ticked by, but he had no way to measure it other than the beat of his own heart. Suddenly the bonds of magic released and Harry looked up gratefully.

Directly into the face of Ron Weasley.

He tried not to wince. “Thanks, Weasley,” he said.

Weasley shook his head. “It’s still strange to hear you Slytherins say that.”

“We’ve got to move. Bellatrix is getting away.”

“I think she might have already gotten away,” Weasley said regretfully. “The portraits are all reporting that there is no more fighting going on.”

Harry swore. “What time is it?”

“A bit after midnight,” Weasley replied. “McGonagall is in the Great Hall running the show. She sent a bunch of us out to sweep through the castle to collect the wounded. I found a couple of dead Death Eaters a few corridors over.”

“We got some of them,” Harry said grimly. His own Strangulation Curse had taken out Rodolphus Lestrange.

“We lost a few too,” Weasley said gruffly.

Harry’s heart lurched. “Who?”

“McLaggen. Bad timing, and he took a curse in the chest. Can’t say I’m going to miss the sod though.”

Harry felt like a horrible person, because he couldn’t say that either.

“Gotta say, I’m glad you made it through, Weasley,” Harry said. “You’re one of the great constants in my life. I really don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t make it through.”

Weasley stared at him for a moment. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Probably. Try not to get used to it.”

Weasley grinned at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Potter.”

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Harry heard his name.

“Harry!” called Sirius. He hurried over and wrapped Harry in a hug. Everything suddenly seemed a bit brighter.

“You made it,” Harry said, glad that his godfather was here. “I was wondering if you took the Knight Bus.”

Sirius explained, “We ran into a little trouble when we tried to come through the secret passage. Greyback was waiting for us with a couple other Death Eaters.”

“Did Moony kill him?” Harry asked viciously.

Sirius shook his head regretfully. “He tried. He came very close.”

“But he got away?”

“He got away.” Sirius confirmed.

Harry knew how much Remus hated Greyback. “How’s Remus taking it?”

“Badly,” Sirius said, likely understating the matter a great deal. “He killed Ford and Selwyn. They were giving me a bit of trouble.”

“I’m glad he was able to put his frustration to good use. How many have we lost?”

Sirius shrugged. “We’re still assessing the losses tonight. I know Professor Sinistra was killed.”

Harry lurched. The Astronomy witch was nutters for the stars, but he had liked her. He felt a stab of regret that he had dropped her class.

“Of course, no one has seen Snape or Professor Trelawney.”

Harry was keen for details of that plan. “Of course.”

“No one seems to know where Dumbledore is,” Sirius continued.

“He’s on an Order mission,” Harry informed.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. “Is he?”

Harry nodded. “Top secret.”

“I see,” Sirius said solemnly.

“I’ll tell you later.”

McGonagall was directing the search of the castle for both any lingering Death Eaters and any injured students. Alecto Carrow, Amycus Carrow, Lyle Yaxley, and Thorfin Rowle had all been captured. Many more had been killed. The teachers had fought with restraint, but Harry’s duelling club had taken no quarter. They had cast Slicers, Cutters, and other curses that inflicted lethal injuries.

Dozens of students had been injured, and several killed. Slytherin did not escape unscathed. Harry was crushed to hear that Lucas Slater had been killed. He went numb. He made excuses to Sirius and headed for the Slytherin common room. He couldn’t handle anymore tonight. He’d now gotten the other twin killed.  _ I hope he’s with Laine in Heaven, if there is one. He finally got his death wish. _

Harry went directly to his bed, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing.

_ Should I take a potion? It might help me sleep. It’s probably the only way I will. But if I’m needed, I won’t be able to wake up. _

Harry decided against the potion, and he didn’t sleep a wink. Finally he groaned with frustration and shoved his feet into his slippers. He reached for his dressing gown, figuring that if he was going to be awake, he might as well be productive.

_ Who is the spy? It wasn’t Zabini or Michelle. Merlin, the things I did to Zabini. I don’t want to know what Tracy did to Michelle. What am I going to do about them? They’re bound to go to McGonagall. This might get me expelled. _

He went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face and considered the shower.

_ Definitely. _

The idea of being expelled should have bothered him, but it did not. Harry wondered at that. 

_ It had to be done. The school DID come under attack. There IS a spy. I just was wrong about who it is. I’ll apologize to them, of course. I’ll probably have to bribe them. Gah, it would be easier to Memory Charm them! _

The idea of hiding his sins behind the magic was tempting, but Harry knew he couldn’t run away from what he’d done. He had wronged Zabini and Michelle, and he had to atone for it.

Zabini wanted to be friends. Harry knew he was still pretty bad at the friendship thing, but even he could see that Zabini might not be so eager now.

As for Michelle, he didn’t really know what she wanted. From some of her outbursts this year, he gathered that she wanted to be forgiven and stop being an outcast.

_ Well, now I’m the one who needs to ask her forgiveness. I’m going to make sure everyone stops being mean to her. _

But someone was still a spy. Someone close to Harry. He had to figure out who it was… 

_ The Pensieve! I can use the Pensieve to replay my memory of the fight against Bellatrix! _

Harry hurriedly rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. He grabbed his wand and cast a Drying Charm, causing every molecule of water on his body to evaporate. He wrapped his towel around his waist and ran for the dorm. He threw on fresh clothes and sprinted up to the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

He chose to take the quick route down the pipe. He shot out at the bottom and landed in the great pillow. He lurched for the edge and ran to the inner door.

_ “Open.” _

The serpent gate unlocked and swung open. Harry hurried inside, not even shutting the door behind him. He almost collapsed at the Pensieve, his breath ragged in his chest.

_ I really need to create some sort of shortcut or second entrance. _

When he could breathe without gasping, he thought carefully about the fight. Harry and Neville had nearly taken Bellatrix when they’d been attacked from behind. He put the tip of his wand to his temple, murmured the magic words, and drew out the silvery strand of memory. It coiled around the end of the wand, and Harry deposited it in the Pensieve.

He leaned forward eagerly. At last he would learn the truth.

Once again, he felt the haze of battle around him. It was odd seeing spellfire all around him and not being able to react. More than once he flinched as spells came too close for comfort.

Then he saw Bellatrix and the hooded figure. 

“Mistress, more are coming.”

“Let them come! We’ll kill them all!”

“The plan was to assassinate the old man, not to have a pitched battle in the halls. You’ve got to get out of here before you’re captured. That is my mission.”

“Perhaps you are right. Very well. Lead the way.”

Knowing they could not run into him, Harry moved away from his memory self, to the opposite side of the hallway. They would walk right past him when they left. He would see the spy's face.

“The Vanishing Cabinet is on the second floor. There’s a secret passage over here.”

They turned to leave, and Harry at last got a good look at the face of the spy.

Harry gasped, and with his next breath he began chaining swear words as the memory faded around him.  _ How could I have been so blind? Her? She has been the mole the entire time? _ She had been there in plain sight the whole time. He had invited her to join the Duelling Club. He had decided to invite her to join the Order.  _ I had decided to invite her! _ Despite all of his talk about vigilance, he had been suckered by a Death Eater, just like his parents. He hated himself in that moment, but he hated her more.  _ She doesn’t know that I know, and she is going to pay. _

He sent a Patronus message to Draco and Theo. “Come to the secret meeting room.”

Perhaps fifteen minutes later they appeared.

“Harry?” Draco said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I know who the spy is,” he said flatly.

“How? Who?”

He gestured to the Pensieve. “Take a look for yourselves.”

Both of them were swearing up a storm when they came out.

“So what do we do?” Harry said, cutting across their creativity.

Theo muttered a few more choice oaths. “Well, we need to start with Tracy. She can help us figure this out.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

In short order, they hatched a plan. 

They returned to the Slytherin dorms. It was still too early for anyone to be up, especially after the late night they'd all had. The three boys turned down the girl's corridor to the sixth years’ room. Harry eased the door open.

Harry crept over to Tracy’s bed. He couldn't afford to wake any of the others, especially Pansy. Pansy would make an already volatile situation explode. Once she learned the truth, she would be furious. Harry needed to have the situation resolved before telling her.

He gently drew back the curtains. Moonlight shone through the picture window, illuminating her face and making his breath catch in his chest. “Tracy, wake up,” he whispered.

Tracy stirred. "Hm? Harry? Harry!" She sat bolt upright. "Harry, what are you doing in here?" Her hair was mussed from sleep and he couldn't help but think that she was beautiful. He shook his head.

“I need you to get dressed and come with me. It’s important.”

She yawned. “Okay. What time is it?”

“A little after five.”

“In the morning? What are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She looked concerned. “Bad dreams?”

“Something like that.”

Harry led the way to the second floor girls’ bathroom. Once they were safely down in the Chamber of Secrets and the door was locked behind them, Harry motioned her over to the pensieve.

“I’ve got something I want to show you. Lean down and touch your nose to the liquid.”

They floated down together.

“What is this?”

“You’ll see.”

Tracy watched inquisitively as Harry and Neville duelled with Bellatrix. They were just about to get the better of her when they were ambushed. Now they could see as the ambusher drew back the hood of her cloak.

Tracy began to scream.

“No! No! Aah! No! You bitch! You damned lying bitch!” She whirled to face Harry, her blonde hair flying. “Harry, Harry, Harry, I swear I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know! She lied to me too.” She whirled back to the memory, which Harry had paused as soon as Jamie had called Voldemort her Master. “My own sister! My sister! I hate you! All this time I’ve trusted you, confided in you, and you were laughing at how stupid I am! I’m so stupid! How could I not see this? How could I not know?” She burst into tears.

Harry maintained a firm grip on his emotions, his Occlumency practice coming in very handy. He was not moved by Tracy’s tears. He couldn’t be. Jamie had been a very skilled actress, and if she hadn’t exposed herself, there was no telling when they would have found her out. He had been about to bring her into the Order of the Basilisk. He would have invited a traitor into their midst. It was possible that there already was one. If Jamie was skilled at the arts of deception, then it was entirely possible that Tracy was as well.

“How can I believe you, Tracy?” he said quietly.

“Harry, please, I didn’t know,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know.”

“How can I be sure?”

“I’ll do anything. Give me Veritaserum, please!”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. “Veritaserum? Are you joking? Give you a truth potion that you’ve conveniently been building up an immunity to all year long?”

She screamed again. “Aah! That was your idea! You started us off! We all had to humiliate ourselves in front of Pansy because you thought we should know how to beat it! Convenient? More like fate fucking me over one more time! Why? What have I done to deserve this? All I want to do is marry you and make babies! Is that too boring for fate? Is that why every time I get close to you, our relationship explodes? I love you, Harry! I’ve loved you from the first day I met you, and I never ever stopped. I just want to be with you, and I know you love me too. Please! You have to believe I would never betray you. I swear on my soul that I didn’t know Jamie was one of them.”

“I do love you, Tracy,” Harry said sadly, “but I can’t believe you. I just can’t. I’ve been fooled once. I can’t take the risk that I’ll be fooled again. It’s over between us. This is goodbye.”

“I’ll make an Unbreakable Vow! Harry, don’t you dare walk away from me. Harry! Harry!”

He ignored her cries as he ignored the pangs of his own heart breaking. He loved Tracy. He wasn’t afraid to admit it any longer. He loved her, but she might be a Death Eater, and there was no way to prove otherwise. She had no Dark Mark.

Draco and Theo were waiting for him up in the girls’ bathroom. They took one look at his face and asked no questions.

Harry took out the Map. He had to find Jamie and stop her before she killed more people. He scanned it quickly, with practised ease. She wasn’t in the hospital wing at the moment. He let his eyes roam.

_ Dumbledore? _

“Dumbledore is back! Come on!”

They ran pell-mell up to the headmaster’s office. The gargoyle who had done so much to disable Death Eaters looked at them suspiciously.

“Acid pops,” Harry wheezed.

It stepped aside, allowing onto the spiral escalator. They didn’t wait but began climbing the steps.

“Enter,” came the reply to Harry’s knock.

“Welcome back, sir,” Harry said as they entered.

“Thank you, dear boy.”

The great wizard looked like he’d been through a war. “Was your mission successful?”

“It was indeed. It was most unpleasant.” He sighed greatly. “I understand there was a tragic battle in my absence.”

“You might say that, sir. It turns out that the spy in the castle isn’t as good as we thought.”

“Oh no?”

“It’s Jamie Davis. She attacked Neville and me from behind to save Bellatrix.”

Dumbledore sighed once more. “You would not make such an accusation unless you were absolutely certain.”

_ I accused Zabini and Michelle. _ “No, sir. I have a memory, if you’d like to see it.”

“Certainly.”

Dumbledore was not swearing when he emerged. Rather, he seemed weary.

“I will take care of this, Harry.”

“We’ll go with you, sir.”

“Yes, that might be best. Where is she?”

“The Ravenclaw tower. She was bringing some injured students up to bed.”

“Then that is where we shall go.”

Ravenclaw tower was guarded by a portrait that asked riddles. Fortunately they did not need to answer one, as Jamie emerged.

Dumbledore had his wand in his hand. “Miss Davis, please come with me.”

Jamie didn’t hesitate to draw her own wand and cast a nasty curse. Harry knew he’d never taught that one, even to his Order.

She was not the best of the Death Eaters, but with what Dumbledore had been through that night (even if Harry didn’t know the details), she was holding her own. Harry was about to interfere when she blasted a hole through the wall and leaped into another corridor. He tried to follow her but found the way blocked. He helplessly kicked at the barrier, knowing that he would have to find another way.

Just then Dumbledore collapsed.

Harry swore and ran to help the headmaster.

“That potion is even worse than I thought,” he said in a shaky voice. “Brilliant, Tom, brilliant. Fifty points to Slytherin.”

Then he passed out cold.

Harry turned to Theo. “Get Madam Pomfrey.”

Theo didn’t answer as he ran.

Harry looked down at the unconscious old man. He hated him at times, for the things he had done and refused to apologize about. He admired him at other times, for being such a powerful wizard and gifted in the ways of magic. Their relationship was complicated, but Harry certainly didn’t want the headmaster to die.

Madam Pomfrey came at once, and soon Dumbledore was resting comfortably behind a privacy screen in the hospital wing. 

“Mister Potter?” Madam Pomfrey said. “The headmaster would like to see you now. You’d better not disturb him, or so help you-”

“No, Madam, I won’t,” Harry promised hastily.

Dumbledore looked incredibly old, frail, and tired, as though every one of his hundred-fifty years was weighing doubly upon him. Nonetheless, he was awake and alert.

“Ah, Harry,” he said softly. “Thank you for coming. I wanted to tell you about what I found in the cave.”

“A locket, sir,” Harry answered quietly.

It seemed that Dumbledore could be surprised after all. “Indeed. How did you know?”

“Because I never told you the whole truth about the locket,” Harry confessed. “I only told you that it came from my home, but I know how it got there.”

Harry talked himself hoarse as he told the tale of Regulus Black.

“So someone else penetrated his secrets,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. “I would dearly love to know what Regulus knew.”

Harry hung his head with guilt. “I’m sorry, sir. If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have needed to go through all that.”

Dumbledore was not so ready to cast blame. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Let us examine this locket then.”

_ Why would we do that? _ “It’s a fake. It’s not the real Horcrux.”

“No, certainly not, but there is much I believe we can learn from it anyway. Someone went to great lengths to replace the Horcrux with this locket, and I would know why. Do not trouble yourself over a bit of absent-mindedness.”

Harry opened the locket easily. There was only a folded bit of parchment inside.

“‘To the Dark Lord’,” Harry read aloud. “‘I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.’” He looked up. “It’s signed R.A.B.”

“Regulus Arcturus Black.”

 


	31. The Vault

**** Harry left the hospital wing so that Professor Dumbledore could get some rest. Draco and Theo were waiting for him outside.

“How is he?” Draco said.

“He’s resting comfortably.”

“It looks like Jamie got away cleanly,” Theo informed him.

“Terrific,” Harry said ruefully. He still didn't know what to do about her. Right now, there were more issues to deal with. 

Theo continued, “Tracy is still down in the Chamber, so far as we know. We might have to Memory Charm her. She knows too much. We can’t trust her anymore. Not when her sister has been spying this long. Who knows if she’s a spy herself or under Imperius or a hundred other possibilities?”

Harry knew that Theo was right. Tracy was a risk to their security now. Still, he didn't like the idea of it. He had trusted her once, and it was still possible that she had not known about Jamie. There was no right answer. But there seldom were, in war.

“What do you think about closing membership in the Order?” Theo said. “No more new members. Maybe kick out a few of the members we have.”

“Yeah, we probably have to do that,” Harry agreed. It would be just the Slytherins, Neville, and the extended Black family.  _ I was about to invite a Death Eater to join. Who knows if I’ve already brought another spy into our midst? Stupid, Harry. Stupid. Too trusting. When will you learn? _

“Definitely,” Theo continued. “For instance, does Draco need to be involved?”

Harry let out a short, barking laugh. He couldn’t tell if Theo was joking or not.

“Yes, I do need to be involved,” Draco said indignantly. “Voldemort wants to kill my father and my entire family.”

"I know," Theo said. "But my point stands. More people means more security risks."

“I thought I was inviting only people I could trust absolutely,” Harry said sadly.

"Exactly," Theo said. "You can't trust anyone absolutely." 

“You can trust family,” Draco said reflexively.

“No,” Theo said harshly, “you can’t.”

There was an awkward silence. Finally Draco cleared his throat. “Sorry, mate.”

“Trust is earned by a select few,” Theo declared.

“I trusted everyone I invited,” Harry repeated. He didn’t want to believe he’d been wrong to trust in Tracy.

Theo snorted. "Then maybe you need to rethink the purpose of the order."

What was the purpose of his Order? It was to train to fight Voldemort, in ways that were not acceptable in public, with spells that might technically be considered Dark.

“What do you mean, Theo?” Draco said.

"If it's to build an army that's one thing. But if it's meant to be your war council, it's too big. It's not even a trust issue. Too many voices. You need to figure out who's actually going to give you useful advice. That's who you should trust."

Harry thought about it. Who did he trust to give useful advice? Sirius and Remus, definitely. Lucius and Narcissa, of course. Ted and Andromeda, too. Draco was right that you could trust family. Professor Snape had always offered him expertise in many areas. Elan and Percy had their own brand of wisdom.

"So," he said. "How do we decide who to remove?"

"Tracy," Theo said instantly. "She's the first to go." He began listing off points. "Even if you give her the benefit of the doubt about Jamie, she was really eager to torture Michelle." 

"A little too eager?" Draco suggested. “Not a good point in her favour.”

Despite what Tracy said about wanting to kill her sister, Harry agreed with them. It could have just been words. It was exactly what a spy would have said. "All right," he said, still with some reluctance. "She's out."

“Arcen?” Draco wondered. “All he ever does is whinge and complain about  _ everything _ . I’m tired of it. You can’t tell me you aren’t too.”

“Merlin would be out of patience with that little bleeder,” Theo exclaimed. “Harry, you agree, right?”

“Yeah, he’s out.”  _ Millie will be thrilled. She’s been asking me to kick him out since the beginning. _

“Crabbe?” Theo said. “Goyle?”

Harry snapped, “Crabbe killed his dad tonight, Theo. You should have some empathy for that.”

This war was breeding kinslayers. First it had been Theo. Now it was Crabbe. For undisclosed reasons, Vincent preferred his last name. When the son had encountered the father during the raid on Hogwarts, it was violent. Harry had watched his friend guzzle Dreamless Sleep and collapse onto his bed.

Theo shrugged. “He’ll get over it. Goyle?”

“I don’t know.” Harry sighed. "These people are our friends, Theo."

"And we are at  _ war _ ," the weedy boy urged.

"I know," Harry said, "but I trust my friends. Tracy and Arcen can be out, but I'm not casting suspicions on friends who have done nothing wrong. Crabbe and Goyle were among my very first friends, as were you and Draco. I'm not going to kick them out. We need all the help we can get." 

* * *

They had reached the common room, and near the fireplace they found Pansy and Millie poring over a parchment that they tucked away. Harry was glad to see them. He needed their help.

Pansy and Millie were discussing travel plans for the summer when Harry and his uncouth friends returned to the common room.

“How is the professor?” Pansy said..

“He’s resting comfortably. He’s been through a heck of a lot. We all have. I’m still knackered.”

“What do we do about Tracy?” Pansy said. “She and Jamie have betrayed us all. Jamie got away, but we’ve got Tracy.”

“I’m still in favor of a Memory Charm,” Theo replied. “I’ve been working on them with Mister Malfoy, and I think I can do it. We need to do it before she gets off the train. The first thing she’ll do is Apparate to Voldemort and tell him everything she knows about us.”

“How much would you take?” The pain in Harry’s voice made Pansy want to embrace him and shield him from all harm. “We did so much work together this year. How would you take that and not our friendship? How would you keep her classes and all intact?”

Pansy snorted. “Are you really that good with the charm?” Her tone left no doubt as to her opinion.

“I am,” Theo said modestly -- well, what passed for it with him. “I’d probably have to scrub everything except the classes. We didn’t spend much time that wasn’t in Duelling Club or the Order.”

Harry’s face blanched. “Everything?”

“We have to be safe. If she is a traitor, she’ll go right to Voldemort with all she knows.”

“No. I can’t do that to her. I just can’t. This isn’t her fault.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Her kisses. She never held herself back.”

Pansy’s heart ached. _Such love, for he is rent in twain._

Theo snorted rudely. “You’re a fool.”

“You’re a cynic.”

“Yes, I am.”

Harry sighed. “I’ll open the Chamber, but I don’t want to see her. Pansy? Will you escort her out?”

“Of course.” _Anything for you, Harry._ “Millie, will you back me up?”

“Sure. Do we need Daphne? More? Does Tracy have her wand?”

“No, I took it out of her pocket when she went into the pensieve.”

“That will make it easier. No, I should be able to handle her if she decides to put up a fight. What do we do with her?”

“Just let her go. If she starts any trouble, we’ll deal with it. I’ll keep her wand until the train reaches London. I’ll leave it with the train master.”

“Smart,” Theo noted.

“Let’s go.”

Harry led them to the second floor girls’ bathroom and opened the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. The ride down the pipe was now on a cushion of air, and they landed softly. Harry spoke the words of power that opened the door.

“Just close it firmly when you leave,” he said over the clanging of the disengaging locks.

“We will,” Pansy promised.

Harry turned and left.

The door opened on silent hinges. Pansy and Millie stepped inside.

Tracy sat on the floor, her head bowed. As they approached, she glanced up.

“He didn’t even have the decency to come himself,” she said scornfully.

“Shut your mouth, Davis,” Pansy snapped. “Congratulations on breaking his heart. I’ve never seen him like this.”

She quailed. “I never wanted to hurt him. I didn’t know about Jamie. I swear. How can I prove it?”

“I don’t know, Davis,” Pansy said heartlessly. “He doesn’t really seem interested.”

Tracy sank back down. “Damn her,” she swore softly. “She ruined everything. Everything.”

“Let’s go.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” she said, not sounding as though she cared.

“That depends on you. If you’re going to cause trouble, Theo says he’s been working on a Memory Charm.”

“He has,” Tracy murmured. “He’s been getting help from Mister Malfoy.”

“He says he’ll wipe out everything except classes and homework.”

Her face drained. “He could do it.”

“If you behave yourself, you’ll be let out and allowed to go home. Certain precautions have already been taken. You’ll note that you can longer remember the location of our headquarters. The details of what we did in our meetings are no longer clear to you. If you are a spy, or if you become one, the information you provide will be of limited value.”

“The Fidelius,” Tracy said, not guessing.

“Yes. Marvellous bit of magic. When they cast it, they concealed the house and all activities conducted within.”

“What about while we’re at Hogwarts?”

“This is the Chamber of _Secrets_ , Davis. The great Salazar Slytherin himself ensured our privacy here.”

“And the Room of Requirement?”

Pansy smiled tightly. “You’re clever, Davis. That’s why you’re dangerous. Theo is right to want to erase your memory.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome. That’s your chance to prove yourself, I guess. If you can keep that to yourself, then maybe we’ll start to trust you again.”

“Jamie already knows about it. She knows about almost everything we did. She’s my sister. We talked about everything.”

Pansy giggled mirthlessly. “It’s really funny, if you think about it. I’m the one with the reputation as the school gossip, yet it’s brainy Tracy whose loose lips give away all our secrets to the enemy.”

Tracy collapsed to the floor again with a wail. “She was my sister! When everyone was shunning me during fourth year, she was the one who kept me sane. She was the one who helped me get over Harry rejecting me, who helped show me how to really get him back. Was she just using me, that whole time?”

“Probably. Get up, Davis. What’s done is done, and there’s no use crying about it. If you truly are innocent, then you need to start fixing this. You can’t do that down here.”

For a moment, there was no response. Then the crying stopped. Tracy pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. She stood up but kept her face averted.

“Let’s go,” she said quietly. “I’m ready. I won’t try to see Harry. I won’t cause any trouble. You won’t even see me.”

Pansy glanced at Millie, who had been been silently watching, her arms folded menacingly. Millie met her eyes and shrugged. She made a fist and tipped her head inquiringly. Pansy shook her head.

“Good,” she said to the defeated girl. “Come on.”

Tracy paused to take one last look around the Chamber, then she sighed and walked toward the exit.

* * *

Once released from the hospital wing, Professor Dumbledore tried to put the castle back to rights over the next few days. Students were dead, professors were missing, and Death Eaters had been exposed. The board of governors was demanding an inquiry. The Ministry was demanding an inquiry. Parents were demanding an inquiry. Some wondered if this would be the final disaster in Dumbledore’s tenure as Headmaster.

Since exams had already happened, students were sent home early. Rather than waiting around idly, results would be sent by owl. This decision was wildly popular with everyone. They’d just been through a battle and wanted the comforts of home and hearth.

The Leaving Feast was sombre. The Great Hall was draped in black. Dumbledore spoke eloquently about every fallen student and teacher. Every house had lost members, and scarcely a dry eye could be found by the time he was done. The House Cup was awarded to the fallen for their sacrifice. Their names would be carved on the plaque, remembered for as long as there was a Hogwarts. 

Gryffindor had lost Cormac McLaggen. Slytherin, Lucas Slater. Hufflepuff was mourning Sally-Anne Perks and Wayne Hopkins. Ravenclaw was missing Terry Boot and Lisa Turpin. Pansy was taking her ex-boyfriend’s death hard.

For the Hogwarts Express ride back to London, Harry made sure not to exclude anyone. He claimed the last car on the train and abolished the walls to make one huge room wherein he invited all of the fifth years and up. Just about everyone accepted his invitation, but there were some notable absences. The seventh years were all off together, taking their final ride as students. Tracy was obviously excluded.

As the train raced toward London, Harry considered the members of his Order. Tracy was already gone. Crabbe and Goyle didn’t  _ need _ to be a part of it. Arcen didn’t add any value to the organization, and Millie’s best skill was keeping him in line. He knew he couldn’t do without Pansy or Daphne, and Astoria had proven useful. 

His gaze fell on Ginny. She’d had close encounters with two of the Horcruxes. She had more right than anyone else to be a part of his plans. She would never turn traitor and had just as much reason to want Tom dead as Harry.

She glanced over at him and their eyes met, and somehow he knew that she wasn’t distracted by all of the idle chit-chat going on around them. She was also thinking about serious things.

She moved over to sit next to him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he said, glad she was there.

“Knut for your thoughts?”

He decided to be honest and a bit playful. “I was thinking about you.”

He definitely startled her. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“How so?”

He gave up on the teasing. “Just thinking that you’re in this fight until the end. I’m going to be making some changes with the Order, and I still want you to be a part of it. Time to kick out everyone but the essential people.”

She sat up straighter. “And I’m one of them?”

“You are.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear.” She smiled at him. “We’re going to win, Harry.”

He knew that, but it was good to know that she believed it too. “Yes, we are.”

“Even if we make some mistakes along the way, we can still come out on top.”

Harry sighed. "I don't know about that. I think I might have made a potentially fatal one."

Ginny's eyes filled with concern. "How?"

Harry took a deep breath. It was time to confess his failings. “I almost invited a traitor. I was only a few days away from asking Jamie to join us. We could use a Healer. I almost invited a Death Eater to join my secret group. It makes my spine tingle.”

He told her about Jamie and Tracy. He left nothing out, and she listened without a word. When at last he fell silent, she squeezed his hand.

“I was there when Pansy and Tracy took Michelle away. I never thought they were up to something. I didn’t quite believe it was official prefect business, but it didn’t seem like more than just normal girl stuff, at least what passed for it with Michelle. I didn’t do anything to stop it. I was just glad it wasn’t me.”

Harry shook his head regretfully. “I don’t know what Tracy did, and I’m not sure I want to know. Not like she’ll tell me now anyway. Sweet Merlin, if she really has gone Dark, who knows what curses she used on Michelle?”

“In addition to the ones we’ve worked on in meetings,” she mused.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he said sourly.

“Dark magic is never a good idea,” Ginny reminded him.

“Dark magic is about intent and symbolism.”

“Yes, and her intent was obviously malign,” she agreed. “Have you talked to Michelle? I think you owe her an apology. I admit she has been pretty suspicious this year, but Tracy never should have been left alone with her.”

Harry agreed. “Yeah, I need to make things right with her. I think a public apology is a good way to start.

He signaled to Astoria, and she was at his side in an instant. “Yes, Harry?”

“I need you to find Michelle and bring her here. Gently, if possible,” he insisted.

Tori smiled. “Sure. I shouldn’t be long.”

The blonde girl had reverted to her ghost-like ways, and Harry hadn’t even seen her board the train. Tori sussed her out and half-dragged her into the compartment ten minutes later, which certainly didn’t help her state of mind. As soon as she walked in and saw who was in the compartment, Michelle screamed and began to flail. Several other girls reached for their wands, but Harry stood up.

“No! Enough. Michelle, it’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Michelle was near frenzy. “Tracy will! How could you let her do that to me! I didn’t do anything!”

“Tracy isn’t here,” Harry said firmly. “She’s on the outs. What she did to you wasn’t right. I’m sorry. I hope that we can fix this situation. We’re family in Slytherin, and we shouldn’t be treating each other the way we have been. It stops now.” He looked around at everyone. “This business with Michelle stops. I’ve had enough of the shunning, of the girl games, of the harassment, of the everything. Enough. Enough. I want you all to apologize to Michelle for the past two years of hell.”

The girls all muttered apologies.

Michelle looked flabbergasted. “I-I accept. Thank you.” She turned to Harry gratefully. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t put a stop to this sooner,” Harry said honestly. “I wasn’t happy with what you did either, but this has gotten out of control. You can hang around, study, whatever.”

“And what about the secret thing?” she inquired.

Harry knew they’d gotten too big and too careless if they’d been discovered. “You’re not wrong that there’s been a secret thing,” he said, deflecting the question, continuing, “but there’s about to be much less of it, so it’s nothing to worry about. We’ll let you in on the next secret thing.”

“Oh.” Michelle said, her tone uncertain. “Well, okay, then.”

“So how did your OWLs go?” he said conversationally.

They talked of normal things until Harry was sure Michelle was comfortable. It took awhile, as one might imagine. Then he waved Goyle over. "Now go and get Zabini," he said in a low voice. If he was making amends with one, he might as well try the other, though he wasn't sure if Zabini would be amenable.

Several minutes passed. Harry wondered if he might need to send a search party. Finally, the compartment door opened and Zabini and Goyle came in.

Harry tried to smile genuinely. “Ah, Zabini, please join us. We missed you.”

Gone was the cocky and irritating boy who had come back from Beauxbatons. In his place was a skittish, twitchy, and jumpy young man who looked ready to bolt if anyone looked at him wrong.

“What do you want?” Zabini said fearfully. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” Harry said, putting as much regret into his words as possible. “Don’t worry, things are different now. I’m really sorry about all of that. I hope we can forget all about it.”

Zabini’s jaw dropped. “Just like that? You decide it’s over so it’s over? You’re nutters, you are. I don’t want anything to do with you, Potter.”

“I don’t blame you for that reaction,” Harry said calmly. “I can only tell you that things will be different now. We were hostile because we didn’t trust you. Now we know that you’re all right. See?”

“You had to torture me before you’re willing to be nice to me?” Zabini sounded dumbfounded. “That’s pretty twisted, Potter.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, and I really still can’t get into it, but yes, we’re willing to be nice to you. Friends, even. If you still want to.”

Zabini sighed. “I suppose telling you lot to sod off wouldn’t really get me anywhere. I still have to survive one more year, and I guess it will be easier if I don’t have to worry about you all every second. Sure. What could possibly be worse than this year? You realize that under the old rules of conduct, I’m owed infinite favours next year. Do I actually get to collect on any of it?”

“That’s really not unreasonable. We’ll work something out. ”

* * *

With the shock of everything that had gone on, Harry had entirely forgotten about the contract with the dwarfs. When he received the message that the tunnel to Gringotts was complete, he realized that he still had his own plans to see to despite the despicable revelations of the past month.

The plan was to break in at the very bottom level, under the Lestrange vault. Lucius knew the number and location.

"Now," Sirius said to Lucius. "When do we go?"

"When do  _ you _ go?" Harry asked pointedly. “We’re all going.”

“It would be better if only a few people went,” Lucius stated.

"Yes," Harry said firmly, "and I'll decide who. It's going to be me, Theo, Draco, Goyle and Crabbe." 

"Harry," Sirius said, trying to sound reasonable, "I think it would be wise if you let us go."

"Are you saying we're too young?" Harry challenged. "We just fought off Death Eaters a year ago.”

Sirius folded his arms. “You got your butts handed to you by Death Eaters a year ago, as I remember it.”

"That was a year ago,” Harry deflected. “We've all been training since then. And the dwarfs made their contract with  _ me _ . They won't let anyone else in."

Sirius looked helplessly at Lucius. “Is it always like this?”

Lucius assumed the look of the long-suffering parent. “Yes, actually.”

Sirius sighed. “Alright. Harry, you can come with us.”

“And Draco, Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle,” he insisted.

“What, none of the girls?” Sirius teased.

Harry didn’t take the bait. “Not this time. Draco and Theo are already here, Crabbe could use with the distraction, and I’m not going to listen to Goyle belly-aching about being left out of the action.”

“Fine,” Sirius said. “Friday night.”

Harry nodded.

It was time to hunt down a Horcrux.

Lucius, Sirius, and Remus were the main strike force. All three were used to covert operations. The secondary force consisted of Harry, Draco, Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle. 

“Now I mean it, Harry,” Sirius said, wagging his finger. “Exactly as ordered no matter what.”

Harry had left his flip tongue at home. “I promise, Sirius. We will obey all orders without question.”

“This is for real,” Sirius reiterated. “This is deadly. I know you’ve gone into action before, some of you. Just keep moving. A stationary target is easier to hit. Keep your shields up.”

Lucius took over. “We don’t expect to encounter resistance, but we probably will. There will be magical traps, hopefully not anything living. This far down, there are dragons.”

The party of nine took a Portkey to the rendezvous point. Andromeda and Narcissa remained behind at Malfoy Manor on Healer duty. Lucius was dragged around the corner so that Narcissa might say goodbye without an audience.

The dwarfs who met them wore plain clothing, heavy despite the onset of summer. They led the way to the runic gate that transported them to the underground. Harry was glad to visit the dwarfen city again. He noticed many smaller details that he had not seen on first glance. The dwarfs were the most amazing craftsmen he’d ever heard about.

The procession ended at the Mining Guild, where there was an honour guard waiting for them. Lord Dumpling was there, beaming with pride. “Hello, worthy customers. I am pleased to report that the work is complete.”

Harry stepped forward. “Thank you, Master Miner. I am pleased to receive your report. I congratulate the guild on completing the work ahead of schedule.”

The dwarf bowed deeply. “We gain honour by exceeding expectations. Would you like to inspect the project?”

“Indeed. We are ready to make use of it, if that is agreeable.”

Lord Dumpling grinned. “It is! We have some workers who have taken up the job of protector in the absence of our warrior caste. They are still young, still in need of training, and in time, perhaps a new warrior caste can be formed, but they will guard the tunnel as you penetrate the goblin vaults.”

“If we can get up as precisely as you say, there should be no need for your new warriors, but I thank you nonetheless. We brought many wands to the potential fight.”

“You will emerge in the Lestrange vault,” Dumpling promised. “May you find what you seek.”

Harry felt his pulse began to pick up pace. “Thank you, my lord.”

The procession to the diggings was long, and Harry’s feet started to hurt. He wished he knew if it would be a breach of protocol to fly a broom. At last they reached the end. A series of wide steps had been carved leading up to the ceiling. A squad of dwarfs armed with ruby-tipped wands awaited them.

“We’ll take down the last of it,” said the foreman. “You go in, do what you have to do, and get out. We’ll collapse it behind you.”

Harry was ready and eager. “Here we go.”

The dwarfs pointed their strange wands, and the stone began to ripple. A hole opened up, and as the torchlight spilled into the vault, it glistened off a thousand jewels. Lucius took the lead.

“It’s a big golden cup,” Lucius reminded them. “There will be no mistaking it.”

Harry saw piles of gold and silver, crowns and necklaces, jewels and pearls of great price, but no golden cup.

Next to him, Crabbe leaned in to peek behind a leaning bookshelf. He touched a volume bound in blood-red leather and screamed bloody murder.

“It’s burning!” he cried, clutching his wrist in his left hand, holding the fingers of his right hand claw-like.

“What did you touch?”

“That book there?”

Harry waved his wand quickly and was repulsed by the pulse of Darkness he got from the tome. There was a very nasty enchantment on it that would harm anyone who didn’t know the counter.

“Who just leaves that lying around?” Crabbe sobbed. “Aaah!”

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes as the fingers started to disintegrate. “Help him!”

Lucius and Remus started waving their wands, but Crabbe’s hand and arm fell to dust. He screamed until his vocal cords gave out. His mouth was open now in a silent utterance of horror and pain. He looked at them all desperately, pleading with them to save him, before the curse ate into his chest. His heart stopped, he collapsed, and his body quickly disintegrated.

Harry stared in shock and horror. “Crabbe!”

Theo was inventing new curse words.

“Being in the most secure vault of Gringotts is not enough for her,” Lucius hissed. “She places heinous curses everywhere. Touch nothing!”

“It might have been nice to know that before!” Harry stormed.

“I didn’t think I needed to state something that obvious! Take only what we need.”

“I don’t see any damned cup!” Harry railed. “Do you?”

“No!” said Draco.

“Would it be in one of those chests?” Theo suggested.

“Possibly,” Lucius said with consideration, “but opening them could be dangerous.”

“We’ve come this far,” Harry half-shouted. “We keep going. We find that damned cup.”

They used their wands to open the chests with magic. Several deadly curses flared up, but they were safely out of range.

Remus countered several deadly traps, and they were lucky to not have the skin seared off their bones.

They found riches beyond measure, but neither cup nor anything that might be mistaken for the cup Harry had seen in the memories.

“It’s not here,” he finally concluded with disgust. “This whole thing has been a waste, a deadly waste.”  _ Crabbe died for nothing. _

“I must concede,” Lucius said. “We have looked everywhere and have probably overstayed our welcome.”

“Lucius is right,” Sirius said. “It’s time to leave.”

They retreated into the dwarfen tunnel. The miners raised their wands and closed up the vault wall again. They backed down the tunnel, closing the stone in as they went, collapsing it as though it had never existed.

Despair followed them back to the dwarfen city and back to Number Twelve.

* * *

Jamie approached her Master’s throne room with caution. She could hear the shrieks as he put Bellatrix under the Cruciatus again and again.  _ She escaped Hogwarts hours ago. Has he been torturing her all this time? _

She waited for a pause, a lull. She stepped forward boldly. “Master,” she said, kneeling at his feet. She brought the hem of his robe up to her lips and kissed it reverently. She bowed her head, keeping her face down to avoid attracting his fury.

He spoke in a cold, dispassionate voice, dusty and almost serpentine. “Welcome back, my dear Jamie. Bellatrix was just telling me about her failed attack on Hogwarts. Perhaps you could shed some enlightenment on one or two of the finer details.”

Jamie shuddered. “Of course, my Master.”

And she talked. She told the absolute unvarnished truth about how she had quaffed stolen luck potion in order to have a tremendous night. She related the tale of how she had ambushed the Gryffindors to allow the Death Eaters to get off the stairs, of how she had come up behind Potter and Longbottom to rescue Bellatrix, and of how she had guided Bellatrix, the last Death Eater standing, to the Vanishing Cabinet and freedom.

She fell silent, and for a long moment not a sound was heard. Jamie flinched when she felt an inhuman finger lift her chin, and she looked into those serpentine eyes. She felt no fear, only adoration. “You did well, Jamie. You completed your mission. You repaired the tunnel so that my Death Eaters might penetrate the castle, and you ensured that they were able to escape. During your time in the castle, you also managed to cause a great deal of mischief without being detected. I am well pleased with you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

His eyes blazed as he looked up at Bellatrix. “You are the only one to return, Bella. The only one of fourteen. Some captured, many dead. Yet Dumbledore is not dead. What have you to say about your failure?”

Bellatrix fell stricken to the ground and pleaded. "Master! Please give me another chance! I will kill Potter. I have been so faithful for so long." Her voice rose to a sob. "Please let me continue to serve you. I will prove my worth." She seized the hem of Voldemort's robes.

Voldemort looked down at her prone form with no emotion. "See that you do.  _ Crucio! _ " 

Jamie watched her mentor writhe on the floor with a deep satisfaction.  _ Serves you right for what you did to me. After I got you out of the castle, that’s your gratitude? _

At last the Master removed the curse and looked away from the weeping witch. "Severus, step forward.” The Potions Master knelt respectfully.

“You have performed many services for me without complaint or excuse. I would bestow upon you a sign of my favour.”

“I am not worthy, my lord.”

“Take this cup. I took it away from Bellatrix when she failed me so spectacularly, and her failure again tonight confirms my decision. You, who have never failed me, who have served me faithfully, I now grant this cup. Keep it protected at all costs.”

“You honour me, my lord. Thank you.” 

Lightning flashed through the windows and the thunder crash echoed all around them. The rain poured down, adding a roar to the cacophony. 

Snape allowed a small smile in satisfaction at being chosen by the Dark Lord. "I know exactly what to do with it."


End file.
